Memoirs of a Serpent's Son
by Angel's Fear
Summary: Everyone knows how Harry feels about the world but what does Draco really think? Review of the books through Draco's POV, as told in his journal. Warnings of heavy slash and graphic content for later chapters.
1. First Year part 1

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

Author's Note: This fiction is basically a review of the books in Draco Malfoy's point of view, as told in his journal. There will be certain added parts to the story (more so later on) and I will do my best to write this with adequate delays between chapters (meaning I'll try to post often). I would just like to stress that I write for fun and hope that you'll have fun reading it as well!

_**--Age 11—**_

_June 5_

I really don't know how to do this…. I feel like a fool writing in a journal, to be frank, but Father told me I should learn to document what I do. When I asked him why he said there were various reasons that it could be very helpful in the future, but mainly to keep track of myself and my thoughts, to remember what I've done so no one can later convince me I've done something I haven't. I didn't really follow what all of that meant, but what Father wants done, gets done.

So I figured that today would be a good day to start. He gave me a new black and silver leather-bound book to record my thoughts in. It has our family crest on the front along with some words in latin. I've no idea what they mean, but I get the impression it's something to do with our blood. Father is always emphasizing the importance of blood, so it seems logical our family creed would have to do with it as well.

In any case, I got my letter of acceptance to Hogwarts today. It's about time. Father says my name has been on the students' list since I was born but that they can only officially send out letters when you turn eleven. First thing in the morning an owl was sitting on the windowsill with the thick envelope in its beak.

I can't wait to go to school. Father warned me that I would have to share a room with several other boys in the school dormitories and eat with all the other students in the Great Hall. He told me about all the rules I'll have to follow and listen to all the teachers and show them proper respect even if they are half-bloods or other disrespectful sorts. I don't really mind. I'm a Malfoy; I can deal with anything that comes my way and still come out with what I want. Father taught me that all these years. He said it was to prepare me for school, mainly.

I still don't fully understand why purebloods are better than everyone else but he says it's true, so it must be. He showed me a list of students that are going to attend Hogwarts this year as well. He highlighted the ones that he said it would be favourable for me to befriend. Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle's sons are on the list, no surprise there. Father says I have no choice but to be friends with them. They are stupid like their parents, but he says that they are loyal and will protect me if I ever need it. I can use them to do my dirty work if I want, he claims. I don't really know what kind of dirty work I'm going to have to do, but I suppose it is a good idea to have big friends… I mean being who I am, people should be jealous, no?

I asked him about the red-headed boy I'd played with at one of the Ministry parties. He had freckles all over his face and tons of siblings. We were playing together with some of the other children there, while the adults had their fancy ball, or whatever it was. He was pureblood… I know that. But Father scolded me afterwards. He said that he was a Weasley and that even if they were purebloods they loved Muggles and so didn't deserve our time. Pity really, the boy didn't seem that bad… I guess he was though.

Anyway, he showed me someone else too. Harry Potter. I've heard of him, of course. Everyone in the wizarding world has. He's the one who stopped You-Know-Who. I don't really understand why Father wants me to befriend him, since he was the cause of Father's problems with the Ministry, but he said Harry would be a good person to get close to. He said that it's always good to have friends in high places and it hardly gets higher than Harry Potter.

It would be nice I think… I mean it makes sense. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, best friends. I can see it now. We can wreak havoc on the school together. He's only a half-blood I think, but Father says this is one of the few times I'm to overlook it. Also, he said that Harry has been outside of the wizarding world for most his life, so he doesn't know anything about the way things work. Father says I'm the best person to teach him the _real_ way the wizarding world works so I have to meet him and befriend him before anyone else tries to brainwash him.

It's strange… every time I say his name a shiver runs down my spine. It's exciting to think that I will be Harry Potter's best friend. I wonder what he looks like…I can't wait to meet him.

VVVVVVVVV

_August 1_

We went to Diagon Alley today to get my school supplies. I've been begging Father to go earlier but he doesn't appreciate begging. He says it's unbecoming of a Malfoy so every time I did it, he would push the date back another week. If I weren't so impatient I might have learned faster and we could have done the shopping earlier, but I suppose it was all to teach me a valuable lesson. Malfoys never beg.

Mother and Father went their separate ways to get me different things I would need. They sent me to Madam Malkin's first to get fitted for my school robes. Bland and boring things. Just generic black robes with the Hogwarts crest. I suppose we'll have different pieces to wear later that have our house colours on them, but they surely can't assign those ahead of time. It's not as though I'm at all unsure of where I'll be sorted. I'm a Slytherin, through and through. There is no doubt about it. All Malfoys were Slytherins. Each and every one of them. If I don't end up in Slytherin it's because the damn Hat didn't work, or something.

A boy came into the shop while I was being fitted. He was a mess. His hair was black and everywhere and his clothes looked as though they were ten sizes too big for him. I don't usually judge people at first glance, though Father insists that it's the best way to get an impression of a person without having to talk to them. I did talk to the boy though, I was so bored. That and something about him excited me. He was definitely a first year Hogwarts student too. He was the first one I've met so I decided to try and get a head start on making important friends.

I talked to him for a while. I mentioned things about houses and Quidditch and all. He didn't look as though he understood a word I was saying. I told him if I were sorted into Hufflepuff I would just get on the train and go home. He didn't really answer to that. Perhaps he was Muggle-born. I don't think so though. I didn't get that impression from him. Not that it's really something you can tell at first glance. I won't tell Father that, though. He thinks you can tell everything about a person at first glance.

The boy didn't really answer much to me. I got a bit bored with him after a while because he didn't seem interested. Perhaps he was just a bit slow. I need to get used to people like that if I'm to be friends with Crabbe and Goyle. I left him before he was done and told him I'd see him at school… that's polite enough, isn't it? Especially for someone who is not all there.

VVVVVVVV

_September 1_

I want to scream. I want to bloody tear the hangings that are around the bloody bed and scream. …………………………………

Ok. Ok. I've calmed myself down a bit. Let me recap the whole day to make it painfully obvious why it is I need to scream.

I got on the Hogwarts Express this morning, energetic and wonderfully excited about starting school I got to meet Crabbe and Goyle –who apparently had been told ahead of time to be my bodyguards, because they automatically started following me around and doing as I told them to –and found myself a car with several other students that seemed promising. There was a girl, named Pansy Parkinson I think. She's insane. I think she's already in love with me. I don't know what to do about that. It kind of makes me uncomfortable to have anything fawning off me like she does, but Father encourages me to keep people like that around, so I deal with it.

There was another boy, as well. Blaise, I think his name was. He's different than all the other people I've met so far. He's dark and quiet, but not stupid like Crabbe and Goyle. He could be a useful asset in the future. Though I don't like to think that I'll start treating everyone as though they are going to be 'useful products' or not. Makes life seem entirely like a business, more than…well, life.

So I'd met all these people, but not the one person I wanted to meet most: Harry Potter. I went through half the train ride without hearing a peep from anyone about the famous Harry Potter. Surely if he were really coming to Hogwarts he would be on the train and people would be talking about him? Though, perhaps, considering who he is, he wasn't going to get to Hogwarts on the train…. But no.

Some time after the trolley passed by, some students walked by speaking in hushed whispers about 'that boy' they'd seen just down the train and how they couldn't believe that Harry Potter 'looked so normal'.

I didn't waste a minute. I got to my feet and rushed out of the train, down looking through all the compartments to find this boy. Crabbe and Goyle came along, automatically. Finally I got to the last compartment and inside, wouldn't you know, was the boy from Madam Malkin's sitting next to none other than _Weasley_.

I pretended I'd never met Weasley and hoped that he would have the sense not to mention ever having met me, and turned my attention to Harry. I tried to get him to realize that he needed to be careful who he decided to make friends with (naturally emphasizing that I am the right choice, and Weasley is not). But then what does he do?

HE CHOSE WEASLEY.

He _blew me off_. I am a MALFOY. NO ONE blows off a MALFOY.

I have to say, I think I reacted a bit irrationally. I was rather miffed that he would be so stupid and choose Weasley over me, so I may have let my frustration get the best of me and said some things that were not really appropriate for making friends. Somehow, a brawl started and then Crabbe… or Goyle, I can't tell them apart yet, got their finger bit by some rabid rat and we bolted. I do _not_ deal with rabid animals.

I tried to cool down after that and wait until the Sorting ceremony. Surely Potter would be sorted into Slytherin (which is by _far_ the best house). Then, when he realized that he and I would be in the same house, he would come to his senses and apologize for speaking to me so rudely. I'd accept and apologize for overreacting and then we'd begin our plans to reign over the student body. It was simple and foolproof.

I got Sorted into Slytherin instantaneously, which was no big surprise, but then Potter's turn came and he sat on the bloody stool with the old hat down past his eyes for what seemed like _hours_. How long can it possibly take to decide Slytherin is best for him??

The damn hat finally chose and yelled out the house. Guess what? He wasn't put in Slytherin. He was put in _Gryffindor_.

Of all the houses he could have been put in, he _had_ to be in the one that has had the longest standing rivalry with Slytherin, ever.

Then, of course, precious Weasley gets sorted into the lion house too and they go off and have a merry good time together in their stupid noble house. I want to scream.

Harry Potter is supposed to be _my_ friend. I am Draco Malfoy. NO ONE turns me down.

Fine….. Fine, I suppose, if this is how Potter wants it, then this is how it shall be. I'll make him rue the day he ever brushed off Draco Malfoy. He will sorely regret that moment, and, when the time is right, he'll come crawling back to me to take him. He'll see…

I am not put off so easily.

VVVVVVVVV

_Fall Term_

I had my first Potions class today. Snape teaches Potions so that's an added plus. He favours me so clearly I know all the other students are jealous, but I'm happy about that. The problem is we have Potions with the Gryffindors. I suppose it's not _really_ a problem, since it gives me the chance to show Potter exactly what a fool he is.

He got told off today. Terribly so. Snape clearly hates him. I'm rather glad. He might not hate him so much if he were in Slytherin and friends with _me_. He deserves to get picked on by Snape. He deserves it for rejecting me like he did. I laughed when Snape asked him all those questions. I laughed even harder when I saw that stupid girl's hand fly into the air every time he asked a question. It's like she's got nothing better to do with her life than keep her nose stuffed in a book. I don't think Potter thinks much of her either, judging by the way he tried to deflect Snape's wrath off himself and onto her instead.

He won't do too well in Potions with Snape feeling so adverse to him. I love it. Maybe he'll have to come to me for help. I can help him much more than that stupid Gryffindor girl can, any day. He'll see that one day.

VVVVVVVV

Flying lessons today. In the morning Longbottom got a package from his gran again. Potter seemed a little too interested in whatever it was so I figured I'd go take a peek as well. Snatched the damn thing right out of Longbottom's hand and what do I find out? It's just a worthless Remembrall. Stupid git really does need that though, he can't remember which foot to put forward long enough to walk.

Weird thing was, as soon as I took it, Potter and Weasel got to their feet. It was instantaneous. Didn't take a moment to think about it, they just did. I'm a little amused at how strongly Potter reacts to me now. It's as though he's affected by everything I do.

Anyway, we got our lesson and the stupid Hooch criticized me about the way I mount my broom. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. She _criticized_ me, after the years of training and flying that I've done. I've been flying since I was old enough to sit. Old bat wouldn't know the right end of a broomstick if it hit her in the face.

I didn't get to tell her that, though. Stupid lump Longbottom lost control of his broom and dropped himself from twenty feet in the air or something. Called Madam Hooch away and left us all alone outside. Just me, Potter and the broomsticks. And the rest of the class of course, but who cares about them?

I picked up the Remembrall. It was just sitting on the grass. Really it wasn't safe there, at all. I was doing him a favour. I thought I'd leave it somewhere safe for him to find. When I suggested I leave it in a tree, Potter got all riled up again. I smirked, though I didn't mean for it to seem so evil. I guess it did. Potter didn't react well to it.

I mounted my broom and soared into the air. I figured I'd show them all just how good a flyer I am. I am a damn good flyer. I tossed the Remembrall into the air a few times, just to intimidate him more, but stupid Potter had to go and get on a broom too.

And he can fly too. He can _really_ fly.

The worst part was that he made the trite comment that I didn't have Crabbe and Goyle to protect me up in the air. I don't _need_ them to _protect_ me. The prat. What I'd been thinking was that they would have been _useful_ up in the air to play keep-away from Potter… I guess I sounded a little less sure of myself though because he had the nerve to fly right at me.

I got out of the way easily enough, but damn, he's good. I wasn't going to sacrifice myself for the stupid Remembrall. I threw it in the air and landed. Potter, however, who seems to always have to play the hero, just _had_ to go into a feint after the damn ball, catch it and pull up _right in time_. Stupid git probably doesn't even know what he pulled.

McGonagall, the Gryffindor head of house, came out and called him in for what he did though. At least I get to snicker about that. He's probably going to get detention for that stunt. Serves him right.

VVVVVVVV

I'm a genius. Honestly I am. I don't even know how it really came about but I challenged Potter to a wizard's duel tonight. I didn't think he'd take the offer because I didn't think he'd know what it was. Weasel, mind you, knew and took the offer for him. I still don't think Potter knows, but it doesn't matter. Weasel promised to be his second. It's set. I set it for the Trophy room tonight.

Potter is not the kind to be a coward. He wouldn't pass up the chance to duel me, even if he knows that I'm a stronger wizard than he is. Honestly, I wouldn't ever underestimate Potter, but I've been in this world longer than he has. I've been trained in spellcasting for a long time, and he's just started learning. He should know better than to think that he could beat me in a duel. I think it was just his pride and, well, Weasel's anger that made him take it.

Doesn't matter though. I'm not going to show.

I know. This sounds like a cowardly thing to do, doesn't it? But it's not at all. It's not that I'm scared. How could _I_ be _scared_ of Potter? No no, that's not what this is about. This way, Potter and Weasley will be stuck in the Trophy room, waiting for me to show, and they'll get caught by Filch and his bloody cat. Then he'll surely get kicked out because he's broken so many rules in such a short time.

It's perfect. Don't you see? I'm not being a coward, I'm being a crafty master genius! This way, I don't have to sacrifice anything or put myself at risk just to get back at Potter! It's the SMART thing to do.

….

Just shut up.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

If I were a crude person I would swear. Right now. A lot.

Potter and Weasley did _not_ get expelled. I don't know how they did it, but somehow they evaded the inevitable end to my masterful and foolproof plan. Fine. I can live with that. They won't be defeated so easily, I can accept that. After all, it wouldn't be any fun if they were easy, would it?

But, just to add salt to my wound, I found out today that Potter was given a _broomstick_. I, being the rule-abiding and noble student that I am, tried to call this to Professor Flitwick's attention. Then what do I find out?

THE SCHOOL BOUGHT THE BROOMSTICK FOR HIM.

Not only that, but he was made _SEEKER_ for the Gryffindor _QUIDDITCH TEAM_.

Then he had the _nerve_ to thank me for his being made to join the team. OF ALL THINGS. Honestly, he was made youngest seeker in a century just because he caught a damn Remembrall from fifty feet in the air and didn't break his neck. _I _could have done that without a problem but no one ever gives me the chance to try.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to wring his perfect little neck right then and there and show the world that Harry Potter is just a wizard, like the rest of us. He's nothing special just because he has a damn scar on his head. He's not so special just because he can fly and everyone likes him. And sure, he just laps it up. He just soaks in all the love he's given and has time for everyone and anything to help them and poke his nose into other people's business in hopes of coming out the hero _again._ Right, time for everyone except me.

I should be the one everyone looks up to. I should be the one everyone is always talking about. I should be the youngest seeker in a century. I can fly better than he can and I know more about the game. I know _everything_ about the game…

Father isn't going to be happy when he hears about this.

---III---

Author's note: Ok so this is the first part of the whole fiction. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm doing my best to make it seem like a journal, so that's why the sentences aren't always proper, or the language changes. I also figure that Draco has very proper language when he speaks (at least when he was younger, from the influence of his upbringing) and I took some liberties with when he received the letter and all because it's not specified when everyone got theirs, so just play along with that! I hope you all liked it! I'm going to do my best to get through the first two books quickly because he's kind of too young there to do anything really fun wink but it is still important for the evolution of his feelings about Harry, so I really really hope you all like it! Reviews keep me alive and keep me writing!


	2. First Year part 2

Memoirs Of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 11 – part 2**_

_First Quidditch match –fall term_

_­_I honestly think there is something terribly wrong with the world at the moment. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going my way and that is _not natural_. It's all Potter's fault. Entirely. There is no one else to blame but him.

Slytherin played their first Quidditch match against Gryffindor today. Potter's first Quidditch match ever. I have to say, Hogwarts matches are much more impressive than I expected them to be. There is some real talent among those players… not all of them, of course, but it makes for good entertainment.

Anyway, I went in feeling confident. Slytherin hadn't lost to Gryffindor in ages and I was sure that Potter wasn't going to change that. The match started well, Slytherin was playing adequately enough. Hooch was the referee and called all sorts of unjustified fouls against the team. She clearly favoured the Gryffindors, but no matter, we were still doing better.

I was trying to keep my eyes on the match but I kept looking back at Potter. I don't know what the hell he was doing. His broom was bucking and he looked as though he was having a lot of trouble to stay on. I wanted to laugh because he couldn't even control a Nimbus Two Thousand, but I couldn't. It kind of freaked me out to see that. I tried to ignore him. I figured he was just trying to get attention or something. Maybe it was one of those stupid Gryffindor tactics, to draw attention away from the actual game so they can blindsight us. I don't know. I can't think like those idiots do.

But I couldn't stop looking at him. People in the crowd around me started following my gaze too. They started pointing and laughing. They'd elbow me in the side just to make sure I was looking at the same thing. I tried to laugh but it came out painful. The whole sight of it was more disturbing than anything else.

Just as I thought I was going mad, though, Potter's broom stops bucking and he goes into a straight dive for the ground and then tumbles onto the pitch pulling something tiny and gold out of his mouth. I couldn't do anything but stare dumbstruck. He'd caught the damn snitch in his _mouth_.

He's such a prat! I can't believe that they let that count!! I mean it's not strictly against the rules but that can't be acceptable in a real Quidditch game!! Flint was complaining about he'd almost swallowed it, he didn't catch it. I'm inclined to agree with him but the idiot Hooch let it go anyway. I told you. Everyone favours Potter.

It was kind of an amazing catch though….

NO NO IT WASN'T. ARGH.

Well it serves the Slytherins right. They obviously cannot win without me on the team. They'll see next year. I should have been the youngest seeker in a century. Father said that I shouldn't worry because it will all work out next year. He promised me it would.

It better…

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_Christmas_

I tried to make light of the whole loss to Gryffindor by making jokes about Potter. Things like they'd replace him with a wide-mouthed tree frog or something like that. I didn't think too long on it because I realized it wasn't getting good reviews with the people around me. They were all too impressed with how well he'd stayed on his broom. It wasn't that impressive. Honestly, these simple-minded peasants are so easily impressed.

I went back to the old classics anyway. Weasley is staying at Hogwarts with Potter over Christmas. So I taunted him about it. Honestly, they should just expect to be made fun of by now. It's our happy little dynamic. I make fun of them, they take it personally, try to get back at me and get in trouble for it. It's a cycle we've created and they should just expect it. But every time I do something, it's as though it surprises them and renews their anger towards me. It's not healthy for them to be so oblivious to that. Really, they should wake up.

Problem is, after I made fun of them, I heard Potter say something rather hurtful that was never supposed to be part of the whole game.

He said he _hates_ me.

That's just not fair. How can he hate me? He doesn't even know me! He hasn't made any kind of effort to know me either! He's basing himself off of stupid schoolyard tactics. He can't know who I am from that. He can't possibly assume that he knows the first thing about me, so what is he basing his hate off of??

I never said I hated him! I've never done something _that_ bad to him either! At least nothing that he hasn't miraculously gotten out of, anyway. I mean…. Hold on…

……

No no, I just checked back through my entries (I guess my Father was right about this being a useful tool). I've never said I hated him. I did say I wanted to kill him but that was just out of anger!

But Potter hates me…

Fine. Fine, if he wants it that way then I'll hate him back. I will. That it, it's decided. I don't have to be so considerate. I can be meaner than I am. I can cause him some real hell if he wants it that way. Fine.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

_Quidditch: Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff –spring term_

Bloody hell. This school is becoming a bad influence on me. I'm beginning to use vulgar expressions now just to deal with my anger and frustration. Father used to give me alternate ways to deal with situations that weren't going my way. But I don't have the luxury of those kinds of things here. Damn school.

Gryffindor played Hufflepuff today and Saint Potter got to show off again. He didn't get to do as much as usual though because Snape was referee. I decided to watch from his side of the pitch this time. I sat myself just behind Weasel and Granger (whom I've yet to find a suitable name for). I guess I went a little too far in my comments this time around because Weasel turned around and hit me. He started a brawl right then and there amidst all the other students. Really, it was very inconsiderate.

Worst part was I missed the whole match because I was trying to keep his filthy hands off me and get off the ground. Not that it really lasted long because the match was only five minutes or something. Fancy that.

Potter made the fastest catch of the Snitch in history. Or something. Honestly, the shortest match ever because he had to show off and be the 'Amazing Harry Potter' again. And I missed it. I missed his miraculous capture because of his hot-headed friend.

I can't believe it. My face still feels puffy from the fight and I got nothing out of it. Nothing. I hate them both. There I said it too. I can hate them just as much as they hate me. It's not that hard…

Why is it so hard for him to be near me? It's not like I'm repulsive like Granger or anything…

Forget it.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Ahahahaha today was a good day. The first in a while, it seems, I know. But it was a good day. I overheard Potter talking to his friends about something very interesting and very _illegal_ today. He was telling his friends about how that oaf Hagrid's _DRAGON_ was going to hatch tonight.

A DRAGON HATCHING.

He knows I heard him too. It was obvious. Perhaps I'm not so good at concealing my amusement but I didn't care.

I followed them down to the little hut and stood outside waiting. If Potter was going to get to see the hatching of an illegal dragon, then so was I. There's no reason he should be allowed to have all the fun.

It was really, rather amazing. The little dragon cracked open the shell and rolled out in a little sticky mess before coughing some flames and waltzing around the table. At least that's what I saw. I was on tiptoe on a broken wooden crate outside the tiny window. It was kind of hard to see.

Potter saw me though. He saw me in the window and I bolted. It didn't matter though because I had something on them and they had nothing on me. I can use this whenever I feel like it.

I won't though. I won't go tell on their beloved giant. Just to show them how lucky they are that I'm not as villainous as they think I am. They should do well to remember this.

This is my little moment of glory and I'm going to revel in it. Potter must be wringing himself in bed right now.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

Alright so there was a little kink in my wonderful plan. Again. Damn Potter.

They didn't appreciate my kindness, I guess. I heard him talking about how he's going to bring the dragon up to the Astronomy Tower tonight to give it to some people to take away. So that the oaf and all don't get into trouble.

Idiot.

I can't have that. I went to try and warn Filch. Potter can't think that he would get away with disregarding my kindness. I tried to show him that. Clearly, Filch is a moron though. He didn't believe me. Honestly, what reasons do _I_ have to lie??

Ok, so I've been trying to get Potter expelled from day one, but that's really not enough to make precedence against me!

He gave me a detention. The fool. I want to write to Father and get him to revoke it or get Filch sacked but I'm under the impression that I'd suffer more from getting the detention than Filch will from getting fired.

It's probably just writing lines anyway…. I suppose I'll just suck it up and do it.

Damn Potter. It's all his fault.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Detention was NOT writing lines. They sent us into the FORBIDDEN FOREST. Wait until Father hears about it. He'll have a field day. Honestly, that is not acceptable. There are dangerous things in that forest and there is a REASON it's FORBIDDEN.

Something that pleased me, though, was that Potter, Granger and Longbottom got detention too. I guess my sacrifice wasn't entirely for nothing.

But the night was really just one wrong turn after another. I asked for Fang because I figured that having a massive dog with me to fight off werewolves and other creatures would be a positive thing, but then I find out he's a bloody coward. Great. So then what does the oaf do? He pairs me with Longbottom!

He sends me off into the forest with a coward and a useless lump of a wizard. Honestly, I might as well have put out a call to all werewolves just to come right ahead and eat me then and there.

I had some fun though. I played a little prank on Longbottom just to amuse myself. We weren't finding anything and I was getting nervous. It was just to help calm myself down. I didn't think he'd take it so badly. But I got something better out of it than I could have hoped…

Hargid paired me with Potter instead.

So I walked around, alone with Potter in the Forbidden forest for a while. I could feel the tension on the air between us and it bothered me that he wouldn't even look at me. He wouldn't talk or pay any attention to me. He didn't even ask me why I scared Longbottom the way I did. It was as though I meant nothing to him. Just like a ghost, floating on the periphery of his world and unimportant.

There's nothing that bothers me more than being unimportant to someone. I'm a Malfoy. Of COURSE I'm important.

I was kind of sulking, I suppose, when Potter stopped dead and held out his arm to stop me too. I ran into his arm and he held it there for a moment.

I don't know what to say about that. The touch sent shivers down my back and made me look at him instead of whatever he was looking at. When I finally did turn around, there was a black hooded creature that was drinking blood straight from the dead body of a unicorn.

I remember clearly there was a moment of motionless fear. I couldn't hear or feel or even think while I looked at it. I knew Potter was moving or saying something. I don't really know. All I know was that I screamed at the top of my lungs and bolted, with Fang alongside me. I ran.

I ran and I left him there alone.

I feel like a bloody coward for that, but it wasn't my fault. I tried to tell them there were dangerous things in the forest and that it's no place for students. I couldn't help it. It's not my fault Potter is daft and didn't know better than to run too.

It's his fault not mine…

But he did try to stop me… was he trying to protect me? Treating me like those other people he defends every day?

No, no. It doesn't matter. I hate him. He hates me. It's settled. It doesn't matter. There's nothing there.

Nothing. No chance for friendship anymore. No.

VVVVVVVVVVVVV

_End of Year feast_

No progress whatsoever. I don't care anymore.

Potter went and did the stupidest thing in the world and came out the hero, AGAIN. He risks his life, uses magic on his friend, breaks virtually ALL the school rules and yet, nothing. No, for Potter, we can't possibly _reprimand_ him for it. No, it's surely more suitable to _reward_ him for his stupidity.

Gryffindor literally STOLE the House Cup from Slytherin because the bumbling old fool Dumbledore decided to award last minute points to the Golden Trio and the idiot Longbottom. HE DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING.

ARGH.

I don't care I don't care anymore!! Potter can HAVE his bloody cup. He can HAVE his rewards and his fans and his popularity and everything I don't CARE!

I'll show him next year. I'll knock him back into place and show him where he belongs. Show him he's not more special than anyone else and he certainly isn't more special than I am.

Just wait….next year, he'll see.

----IIIII----

A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews from last chapter! I'm glad you are enjoying it! I'll do my best not to rush things too much, but still get to the older years in good time, since it's easier to work with then. I hope you enjoyed this part too! Next up will be second year, which promises interesting entries because of the Chamber and all. Again, reviews make me live and write!

Also, I meant to add in, I usually write to music so if anyone is interested, the songs that I feel go best with this fiction (though more later on than right now) are My Chemical Romance -House of Wolves, and Thank You For The Venom... as well as Damien Rice -Rootless Tree... if you have any songs that go well with this as well, feel free to suggest them!


	3. Second Year: part 1

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 12—**_

_Summer_

I am bored out of my mind. Father's made me do a lot of reading during the holidays so far. It's honestly more work than school. Most of the things I'm reading I don't even fully understand. I've no idea what half the spells are or how to use them, let alone _why_ I'd ever use them. That and there has been volume after volume about blood and the importance of blood in wizards. I don't really care for blood that much. It makes me feel slightly queasy at the thought of it, but Father insisted.

I do have a better understanding as to why Father says Muggle-born witches and wizards are so inferior. According to the books, they are. Though, they were written ages ago, and I'm sure they've discovered many new things since then, Father ordered me to operate under the belief that Muggle-born witches and wizards are unworthy. He called them 'mudbloods'. He said that I should use that expression from now on because it's the truth. I don't think I'm supposed to use in front of teachers and all, since that will likely get me expelled from what I know of the meaning behind the word, but I suppose they wouldn't mind in Slytherin if I used it. They hardly mind anything I do. Someone even called me a 'prince' before the end of the year.

I think it was that Pansy girl. Father advised me to keep her close, for various reasons. I shrugged and agreed. I suppose she could be useful. In any case, it pleased me to be called a prince. I wonder what Potter would say to that. I bet the idea would make his blood boil, to think that I could be royalty.

I like that image. Potter writhing in anger but unable to act on it.

In any case, I'm sick of all the reading. I've finished most of the books anyway. I've even finished the homework that was assigned to us over the holidays. THAT I cannot get over. I thought they were called holidays for a reason. Not that I particularly mind, it gave me something to do.

Otherwise I've spent most of my time thinking about Potter and what I can do to him this year. Every time I think of him, my muscles tense and I find it hard to breathe. There, it's happening now, that's why my handwriting is getting shaky. Hold on.

………………….

Alright, I've calmed down.

The strangest thing happened earlier. It was actually the reason I started writing again, but I guess I got carried away in my boredom.

I overheard my father discussing some 'plan' that they are going to 'put into motion' very soon. I've no clue what they were talking about. I don't even know who the person was. It was likely McNair, mind you. He doesn't often discuss business affairs with Crabbe or Goyle. Normally he just tells them what he needs done and it gets done.

The reason I'd listened, though, was because I saw our House-elf –Dunderhead or Dingbat… some strange name like that –hovering at the door, shaking like a leaf. He backed away from the crack in the door very slowly, looking as though he'd just seen a ghost (not that that isn't likely, there are ghosts that show up in the Manor on occasion) and I called out to him. He had no business eaves-dropping on my father's conversations.

I didn't have to tell him to do anything, mind you. He punished himself for it, knocking his head against one of the stone columns in the hall. Then he disappeared.

What worries me more is that later that day, Mother called for him and he didn't come. He couldn't be found. In the meantime, _I_ had to do the dishes. Bloody elf.

An hour or two later, we found him scrubbing the floors in the kitchen. He was wearing new bandages over his ears where he looked as though he'd burnt them. When we asked where he had been he responded that he was in the deeper levels, underneath the Manor, cleaning the secret rooms, as he had been instructed.

My parents seemed to accept this since the rooms he was referring to were in fact spotless when they checked them, but I didn't take his word for it.

I caught him and tried to get the truth out of him. I know he was lying. It was in his big green eyes. I threatened him and claimed I'd tell my father he was lying but all he told me was that he'd warned someone about the danger. That was it. I'm a little surprised he told me that much, but something else is bothering me.

What danger? And even if there were danger, why should he not warn_ me?_ I'm his Master's son. I should be worthy of his warning. He should seek to protect me too, shouldn't he? Without us, he'd have no work and no place to live. He'd have no food or anything. House-elves are only useful when they are employed. He's bound to the Malfoy family until our family line stops or he's given clothes.

Stupid creature. I'm getting myself worked up over this. I need to calm down.

VVVVVVVVVVV

We went shopping today. Father took me to Knockturn Alley before we went to get my school supplies because he needed to sell some of the dark objects we have. He said he cannot afford to be suspected of anything by the Ministry fools. He said we don't have to worry because the officials who do the raids are fools and couldn't find what they were looking for if it hit them in the face. But we sold some things anyway.

He took me to Borgin's shop. I'd met him before. He's an oily salesman and Father says that he speaks poorly about us behind our backs but that's to be expected of people who are jealous of us. I looked around the shop a bit while he did his business. I had such a strange feeling…

It was as though someone was watching me, the whole time I was in there. I can't explain it, and I couldn't find the source of it either. There was a tension on the air though and I know it was directed at me. I didn't like the feeling.

That and Father scolded me again for not getting the top marks in my grade on my last exams. It's not my bloody fault that Granger is obsessive, with her nose always in a book. I _did_ get second highest marks in the grade, but that doesn't mean a thing. I might as well have failed the whole year, the way he puts it. Malfoys never come in second. I tried to explain to him before that Malfoys had never come in contact with a Potter before, either, and he didn't appreciate that comment.

I paid dearly for it, but I don't really want to talk about those kinds of scars. Malfoys never speak negatively about their own kin. It's just unheard of.

Anyway, he told me that I should at least pretend to be kind to Potter. He said that I could get myself into a lot of trouble for speaking unkindly of him. I don't really care. He's not so special. Why should he get special treatment and I get none? There is simply no reason for it.

Whatever.

We went to Flourish and Blott's afterwards, to get my books. The famous Gilderoy Lockhart was in there, signing copies of his books and there were people waiting in line for what seemed like miles. There was press there too of course. And then the inevitable happened.

Lockhart pawned Potter out of the crowd and got him to pose for pictures. There was an uproar of amazement as the two blundering idiots smiled for the pictures. Honestly, how great can that article be? The famous Harry Potter buys school books and runs into another famous wizard. HURRAH that's front page material RIGHT THERE.

He tried to escape after that. I stopped him. I confronted him and told him what I though. I honestly didn't say anything untrue. It's not a lie that he can't even walk into a bookshop without making the front page, what had just happened was proof of that. I don't know what got the little she-Weasel all worked up, but she tried (poorly I might add) to defend him.

I happily made a joke about him having a girlfriend but honestly there was a strange kind of pang in my chest from that. I didn't like that this little worthless Weasel could be so close to him. Not that I really care about him or anything. Nothing like that.

No.

Anyway, somehow my father got involved and then so did Arthur Weasley. They actually got into a brawl. A fist fight right there in public, in front of all those people. How uncivilized _are they_??

Father was bruised after that. I watched it happen in shock. I tried quickly to calculate my chances of coming out the victor if I had to take on all the kids. I realized quite quickly that there were no chances at all. If I had to take on all the Weasley children, and then Potter as well, I think I might have died. At least if it was a fist fight. I mean I'm not useless at hand-to-hand combat, but I much prefer a wand, thankyouverymuch.

Thankfully it broke up after that. I wanted to kill Potter for what a scene he'd caused. I don't know how it was his fault, after all that, but it was. I know it was. It's always Potter's fault. I desperately wanted to grab a fistful of his hair and throw him against the book case and pin him there.

Or just punch him. Yeah punch him… forget the other thing.

…………..

Anyway, I can't wait to get back to Hogwarts. At least then I have better chances of taking Potter on without the interference of parents. And I have a nickname for Granger now…. I found out that her parents are Muggles. I'm rather pleased Father taught me that word.

I also have a wonderful little surprise for Potter when we get back.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_Fall Term_

Honestly, this has got to stop. I can't go anywhere without facing the incessant ravings of Potter-fans. He's got people fawning over him from every angle. It's rather sickening really. It's as though he can do no wrong.

He doesn't take the train to Hogwarts. No, because Harry Potter is just too famous to travel amongst common folk. So he takes a _flying car_ to get there. And then he crashes the damn thing along with Weasel. He crashes it into the Whomping Willow, he was _seen_ by Muggles on the way here, and yet what does he get for that? Nothing. Detention and points.

But they can't expel Saint Potter, no. Never. He can't suffer too much now can he? If I had pulled a stunt like that, I would have been kicked out faster than you can say 'unfair'.

But it gets worse. I thought that at least Weasel would have to deal with the embarrassment of getting sent a Howler. Honestly, his mother's voice is so shrill _I _would have been intimidated had it been directed at me.

It gave me a wonderfully satisfied feeling inside when he got that thing. Just to listen to him get properly scolded for doing something so stupid. Potter still got nothing, mind you, but at least someone was paying for it.

But then Potter gets more fame. He's got _groupies_ now. This little blonde kid in Gryffindor follows him around like a shadow with a camera in hand. It's as though he's got his own little paparazzi to catch his brilliant heroic moments on film. He was even asking for a signed photo from Potter, the little idiot.

That was the last straw for me.

Everyone loves Potter. Everyone. No exceptions. It's not possible. He's got everyone eating out of the palm of his hand and can get away with anything just because he accidentally survived You-Know-Who's attack. He wasn't even in CONTROL of that! It's not like he planned it!

He's famous for having done nothing and he's lapping it up. He steps into the role of the hero sooooo perfectly. Has time for everyone and their problems. He comes like a knight in shining armor to save the day and then waits for the parade to honour him but he cannot spare a moment's thought or a second glance for me.

Honestly, nothing. He gives everything and anything to complete strangers who don't know a thing about him, who've never talked to him before, but not me. No. Draco Malfoy, who has known him for over a year and has said more than three words to him, doesn't get a moment. Nothing.

I want to strangle him. I want to hit him or just…. I don't know. LOOK, he's TAKING my WORDS from me! The frustration is just TOO GREAT. I've never been speechless before for anything. This is what the little prat does to me.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Well there was a tiny little battle won today. Though I have to admit, it wasn't really the win I was looking for.

Flint caught the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain –Oliver Wood, I think –at the pitch today. Got to kick them off for the Slytherin team to play instead. Snape signed a letter okaying it. I was waiting behind the rest of the team, to make my entrance of course.

I'm the new Seeker for Slytherin. What bothered me was the expression on Potter's face. It was shocked, yes, which was pseudo-positive, but he was surprised. He was genuinely surprised that I had been made Seeker. I can't understand why. He'd seen me fly before. I'm a damn good flyer. I'm light and quick and I'm a good player. No…. I'm a fantastic player.

Yet he couldn't believe I had been made part of the team? I don't understand that. Then the Weasel and mudblood came down the pitch, to stick their noses in business unrelated to them, just as I showed Potter the generous donation my father made to the team. He gave every player a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, which outstrips the old model considerably.

Then the mudblood made a comment I could not stand for. She claimed that I had _bought_ my way onto the team, suggesting that I have no talent. I wanted to kill her right then and there. She had no right saying that to me. She'd never seen me play before and knows nothing practical about what it takes to fly. Nothing. She is no judge of me and I shall not tolerate disrespect from someone beneath me.

So I told her what her new nickname was.

That didn't go over so well. The reactions almost made me want to laugh, but I was a little surprised. Most of the Gryffindor team didn't appreciate it. At least the ones who understood. Potter gave me the most priceless look. He was lost. He had no idea what it meant and I couldn't help but give him a little smirk.

Then Flint pushed me back to stop the twin Weasels from pummeling me. This was not what I had expected from that simple comment but it did fascinate me. Weasel tried to jinx me after that. 'Eat slugs' he said. I laughed because his broken wand backfired and _he_ started spitting up slugs instead. It was quite the sight to see, but Potter and the mudblood immediately ran off with him down to the oaf's hut, I think.

He gave me an unpleasant look –still mixed with confusion mind you. I stood there quiet for a while, watching his back as he ran down the grounds until he was out of sight.

Still not a moment for me.

It didn't matter how well I did in practice that day; that look stuck in my mind and I can't even concentrate right now.

----IIIIII----

A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! I'm going to have to chop the second and third book into a more chapters than the first, mind you. I'm in university and living in residence right now so I don't have my books with me. I only have the third actually XD haha so I'll be posting the fourth book at or right after Easter, then I have exams. So I'll try to make these chapters long enough and interesting, to make up for it. Also I'm having lots of fun with Draco's little impulses; I hope you all don't mind! I will be getting into more ahem graphic stuff when he gets a little older. Again, love the reviews, they make me write and squee!

As a side note, one more song that I think goes well with where this is going is the song "Pretty When You Cry" by VAST.


	4. Second Year: part 2

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 12 – part 2**_

_Halloween_

I was hoping that this Halloween would be a good one. I started the day very optimistic. I planned to frighten some unknowing first years with horror stories about the curses on the castle. Then steal some sweets from the more oblivious students. Eat lunch. Then perhaps get in some Potter-taunting if time allowed it and I felt confident enough.

But things just don't like to go my way anymore do they?

Potter was nowhere to be seen for most of the day. I know, I said he'd only be part of my schedule if I had the time, but come one. I _always_ have the time to bother Potter. I was actually looking forward to messing with him today. It's Halloween. What wizard doesn't appreciate this holiday?

But Potter is nowhere. Never where I need him.

I mean want him.

Oh just never mind.

I went to dinner quite displeased, to say the least. My so-called 'friends' thought I was mad, looking over at the Gryffindor table every few minutes. I shot them all dirty looks and Pansy immediately came to my defense, telling them all to sod off because I probably had some "devilish prank in the works for those nosy Gryffindors". That's what she said.

I gave her a dirty look too but her head was turned.

I left after that. And half the Slytherin table followed me. Bloody sheep. I wasn't in the mood to be social. I just wanted to get back to my room and lie in bed for a while, perhaps plotting how I could adequately make Potter pay for screwing up my perfectly planned day. But nothing goes the way I want it to, remember?

There was a hold up. A crowd of students was huddled in front of what looked, from my perspective, like a wall. I pushed my way through and got to the forefront, which is when I saw what they were staring at. It was a wall.

But the writing on the wall said "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware."

And Filch's stupid cat was hanging frozen over a pool of water. Potter and his ruddy friends were standing there in front of the scene looking much like my house-elf when I caught him in the hall.

I couldn't help it. A smile spread quickly across my face. Perhaps this was why Father had me read all those useless books. I had read one or two about Salazar Slytherin and his history with Hogwarts. I'd read about the mythical Chamber of Secrets. My eyes flit from the words, to the cat, to Potter. The look on his face was scared and confused.

I commit that face to memory. I will never forget it.

Then I couldn't help myself. I said it out loud, for the entire crowd to hear. I told them that the mudbloods would be next. It was true. That's what the Chamber of Secrets was for.

Pity that Potter didn't think too long on that. He's not as quick as people think he is.

Dumbledore came along after that and sent us all off, but kept Potter and his precious friends. They always get to stay with him. Always.

I hate how Weasel and the mudblood can be so close to him all the time. It's as though they are all attached at the hip. It totally ruined what should have been a victorious moment.

Again, Potter kills everything.

I can't let him get away with this…

VVVVVVVVVV

_Quidditch match –Gryffindor vs. Slytherin_

I have no way of explaining what I feel right now. There are no words yet devised for the emotions I am feeling. None. The only thing I can do is recount the day's events as clearly and accurately as I can and then, maybe, something will come to me.

It was my first match against Potter and his Golden Gryffindor Team. My first chance to prove to the entire school that Potter is not perfect; that I am and always was a better Quidditch player than he will ever be. It was my first chance to face off with him in the air since last year.

But the match was not right. There was something wrong.

We got into the air and played. Slytherin moved so much faster than the Gryffindors did. It was beautiful, really. All these green, silver and black images soaring around the pitch, leaving the Gryffindor players in a dizzy state of shock. They couldn't follow us. Not even for a moment. I didn't have much to do until I saw the Snitch so I watched from further above the game –which I have to say is the best way to watch a Quidditch match –along with Potter.

But Potter kept diving and zooming around. Once or twice it looked like he was trying to evade a bludger, but otherwise I couldn't tell what had him in such a panic. I mimicked him once or twice just to see if he had seen the snitch but there was nothing. I laughed at him and made some comment about his scar or something. I can't remember that well. It's all a blur right now.

Then I realized that he was being followed by a rogue bludger. The reason I hadn't noticed it before was that the Weasel twins were trying to protect him from it and kept beating it away. I sat frozen in my spot for a few minutes, staring at Potter and he flew his fastest in zigzags and feinting every so often to throw it off his track.

I could hear roars from the stands for a few minutes and comments about the standings of the match, before everything went quiet and all I could hear was my own heartbeat. I strained my ears against it, hoping to hear the snitch instead, but my eyes were trained on Potter. I couldn't look away. It was both sickening and amusing all in one.

He got hit by the bludger. Hard. His arm whipped around and lolled strangely, as though it was broken. I opened my mouth to say something, but my head couldn't decide whether I was going to taunt him or to ask him if he was alright. I frowned at myself. Why should I care if Potter is ok? I don't, is the point. He hates me, I hate him. It's our agreement. Silent agreement. I shut my mouth. Then he was flying at me. Straight at me.

He was flying straight for me and I was frozen, staring in confusion, unaware of what he was doing. And then he flew right past me. He flew past and caught something in his other hand.

He'd caught the snitch because it was hovering at my ear and I hadn't heard it. I hadn't heard it because I was too busy listening to my own heartbeat.

I'd lost the match because I was too busy watching Potter dance with the bludger.

My father scolded me after that. He punished me too. Again, I don't want to go into the punishment. Malfoys don't talk negatively about their kin. I have to keep reminding myself of that after every time…

I have to get back at Potter for that. I have to.

Flint tried to say something to me after the game but I hexed him. I hexed him and told him that he'd better learn when to keep his mouth shut if he wants to stay Captain. The rest of my teammates sided with me and Flint just silently agreed.

I almost felt bad for hexing him. He really didn't deserve it. But there's no time for worrying about that.

I have to get back at Potter and that's going to require planning…. Or at least sleep.

VVVVVVVVVV

This is not turning out to be my year. I remember having said something about this year being better for me. I lied. Or at least, I should have held my tongue. Or quill. Whatever. Point is: this is not my year.

Potions' class is usually my favourite because Snape favours me so blatantly that I get to sit back and snicker while he picks on Potter. It's usually rather relaxing and quite satisfying on my end. But not today.

We were brewing Swelling Solutions and mine was going quite well. No surprise there, I am the best student in that class. Apart from the mudblood but I've decided she doesn't qualify as a student anymore, being a mudblood and all.

Then something quite unexpected happened. Someone –not that I have much doubt as to who this someone was –threw a firecracker into Goyle's potion. Needless to say, it _exploded_. It exploded and I got a _face-full_ of Swelling Solution. My nose started to swell up immediately because –somehow –Goyle's potion was being properly brewed for once.

MY NOSE. My nose and my FACE.

HONESTLY that's just LOW. Why would you ruin something so perfect?? My looks are half of my charm!! It's just a CRIME against BEAUTY to deface something as magnificent as a Malfoy. It's punishable by death!! At least it should be.

Luckily, Snape is always prepared and administered Deflating Draught right afterwards so the swelling has gone down. I still think I look different though. Pansy has been so keen to assure me that I look as handsome as ever. I gave her one of my best fake smiles for that. She practically melted in her robes, right there in front of me.

Potter seemed to look rather pleased with himself though. He's not as good at pretending as he thinks he is. His expression betrays him too often. I should know; I'm a master of pretending. I can see right through his feigned innocence.

He can get away with making a fool of me in front of the school, but I CANNOT let him get away with threatening permanent damage to my FACE.

Just wait.

VVVVVVVVVV

_Dueling Club_

More attacks, and all, throughout the school so Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea for Lockhart, our oh-so-talented Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, to start a Dueling club to teach students how to properly defend themselves.

Yeah, that's a great plan. Put the most useless wizard I've ever met, next to Longbottom, in charge of Student Safety. Great work, old man.

Nevertheless, I showed up. Snape turned out to be his 'helper'. I'd prefer learning defense from Snape any day; he's clearly a much more powerful wizard than that bumbling blonde buffoon.

He faced off with Snape first, to show us all the traditional form of Duels and Snape knocked him off his feet before he could even get a proper hold on his wand. Thankfully, the entire room cheered him. Well at least all the boys present. It was the first time I think I'd ever seen Potter cheer for Snape. He was standing across the room with his friends and the mudblood was agonizing over whether or not Lockhart was ok or not. Foolish girl.

Anyway, we got paired up afterwards to work in pairs. Snape happily paired me with Potter, though I don't know why. I didn't mind though. It gave me a chance to legitimately knock him off his feet and wipe that precious smirk off his scarred face.

We had it out, hexing and jinxing one another while the rest of the students started to watch. I have to admit, it was exhilarating. I hit him first. I jinxed him and watched him suffer from it. It was almost as satisfying as throwing him to the ground with my bare hands would have been. Though maybe not...

He hit me back and so it went on until they stopped us. We really had it out and it honestly released a lot of my frustration. My eyes were sparkling, Pansy told me later. She said it was the most exciting thing she'd seen: me hexing Potter the way I had. I figured she was just laying flattery on me because it's what she did best : suck up. But I didn't mind.

The two professors had us both practice our 'disarming' charms in front of the class and standing on the stage –or whatever you want to call it. I can still feel the tingling feeling running through my limbs. Our eyes locked and neither looked away, not even for a moment. The hardest part was bowing to him. We both had to nod our heads in respect, and I bet it took him every ounce of determination to nod his head to me. I didn't let him out of my sight though. I'm emphasizing this because of how intense the moment was. As though nothing else mattered and only one of us would make it out of that Duel.

Snape whispered to me what to do and I cast my spell before Lockhart had finished the countdown. I cast a snake.

Then the weirdest thing happened and I could not say that I would ever have expected it.

The snake slithered and turned to face some Hufflepuff kid named Justin. It was not what I wanted it to do, but I didn't really have control over it I suppose. It looked like it was going to attack him and then Potter stepped up. There was a strange look in his eyes and he, very calmly, started _speaking to the snake._

But he wasn't speaking any words that normal wizards could understand. He was speaking _Parseltongue_.

Harry Bloody Potter is a Parselmouth and no one bothered to tell me.

I don't know what he said, but the words stuck in me. It's like they infiltrated my body and glued themselves to every fiber of my soul. I have this secret yearning to hear him do it again, but I don't know why, and I won't admit it if anyone asks. What bothers me more though, is not that Potter was trying to stop the snake –which everyone else misinterpreted to mean he was egging it on, the idiots –or that he can speak Parseltongue, but that there was only one other recorded incidence of this in history as far as I know.

Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth too.

VVVVVVVVVV

Justin got attacked. As did the resident Gryffindor Ghost. That kind of amuses me because you'd think a ghost couldn't be petrified, but apparently I was wrong.

Father told me little about the Chamber of Secrets and who has opened it. He said it was not my concern but to keep my head down. Pity. I don't ever walk but with my head held high. He should know that.

In any case, I've been trying to figure out who it is. I desperately want to know. But the whole school is under this false impression that I cannot shake out of them and that aggravates me more than anything else likely could.

They all think that it's Potter.

How is that logical??

Saint Potter _cannot_ be the heir of Slytherin. There's no way. He loves mudbloods too much. Just look at the likes of people he consorts with. Weasel and the mudblood. He's a Gryffindor too, and no Gryffindor can be Slytherin's heir. Never. No self-respecting Slytherin would allow it, and Potter doesn't even _like_ Slytherin.

He's not the heir, and I know that. I know it for a fact. I can't explain why but any person that rejects me, in their right and sane mind, cannot be the heir of Slytherin. The Malfoys have been in Slytherin since forever and no Slytherin disrespects that. Not ever.

Our family has been tied, in the past, to the Slytherin line and there is no way that Father would not know if it was Potter. No way he wouldn't tell me either. Not a chance.

I just can't believe the whole school can be populated by such fools.

Crabbe and Goyle keep asking me about it too. It's as though they think that I'm withholding information from them, or am some all-knowing being or something. Which is nice in itself, because they'll believe anything I tell them, but it annoys me to no end when they continuously question me about what information I have and make me feel like an idiot when I have nothing to tell them.

Thankfully they don't remember anything past Tuesday, so if I ever make a mistake, they forget it quickly enough to wipe my record of it.

But I need to find some kind of proof that Potter isn't the heir. Perhaps if Granger gets petrified or killed, they'll know it couldn't be him.

Yes…. I hope she gets hit next so that the school will become aware of what fools they are.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: I had fun with this one, though I'm trying to keep Draco's reactions to Harry still mainly suggestive and discreet, because of his age and all. He will indeed come to a proper realization later soon enough, but for now he remains pleasantly in denial. I hope you liked it! More to come soon! Reviews are love!


	5. Second Year: part 3

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 12 –part 3**_

_Christmas_

I've stayed at Hogwarts this Christmas. I don't really want to go into why, but I don't mind either way. Many of the students went home because they're scared of the Chamber and the monster that's going to come get them in their sleep. They sound like a bunch of toddlers afraid of the monster in their closet or something. You'd never know the majority of them were wizards.

Anyway, I'm generally left here alone with Crabbe, Goyle and Potter….and Weasel and the mudblood but again, they don't matter. Still, Potter is here. That should make things interesting. At least I'll have someone to taunt for the next two weeks. I won't have to resort to other…less productive endeavors.

Scarhead (my new name for him), however, has been keeping a suspiciously low profile for the past few days. I'd hardly seen hide nor hair of him, not that I normally see his hide, nor do I _want_ to. And his hair…. Constantly a mess. It's as though he's never heard of a brush or a mirror. And those are _muggle_ things.

In any case, I left dinner early today. Crabbe and Goyle stayed to stuff themselves with the Christmas goodies. I would complain more about their horrendous eating habits, but if they weren't as big as they are, well they'd be useless to me.

I went back to my room to ruminate over what Potter could possibly be up to that would keep him in hiding for the past little while. I didn't come up with anything meaningful, and I refuse to believe that the reason he's holed up somewhere is because he's the heir of Slytherin and has been having long conversations with his ickle monster-kins.

No I am NOT jealous.

There is nothing to be jealous of.

Nothing.

I lounged about in the common room for a while before I got terribly bored and decided to go find Crabbe and Goyle. Honestly, you'd think they could tell for themselves when enough is enough, but apparently their tiny brains cannot work that quickly.

I found them down in the dungeons. They were lost, as usual. The head-Weasel was talking to them. I don't know what business he thinks he has down in the dungeons and I told him so. He didn't appreciate that. Prefect, he claims. What does that mean to me? Nothing. It's just suspicious to be walking around in an area of the castle that you are not accustomed to.

I took Crabbe and Goyle back to the common-room but something strange hit me. They looked odd…in the way they walked and acted…the way they talked and Goyle was wearing glasses. I stared at him a moment and asked him why. When he answered I got even more suspicious. He _doesn't_ know how to read. I know he doesn't because I've heard him try.

But I let it go. If he was trying to learn without my knowledge, then good for him. Let him try. I moved on.

We went into the common room and I showed them the newspaper clipping Father had sent me about that fool Arthur Weasley. I thought it was wonderfully funny but Crabbe and Goyle didn't laugh right away. In fact, Crabbe looked tense… like he was about to explode or something.

They finally laughed and I sat back, wondering what had gotten into them. I surveyed them carefully as we talked, I don't think they noticed because they never notice anything, but there was definitely something wrong. Perhaps some bad food, of some sort.

They asked me AGAIN about the Chamber. Claimed that I MUST have some idea who is behind it all, when I went on about how I can't believe people think Potter is the heir. I rolled my eyes and snapped at them. I hate it when they do that; I can't spend my whole life repeating myself to them whenever they've forgotten some key piece of information. They should get a Remembrall or something, like that dolt Longbottom has.

What I did tell them, however, was that all I knew was that the last time the Chamber opened was fifty years ago and that time around, a mudblood actually died. I told them happily that I think it should be Granger and that, somehow, did not sit well with them. Something about a stomach ache, they claimed. I eyed them darkly. I don't appreciate being lied to and I would find out why.

We talked about the raids and such as well. I may have said something about how Father has a secret stash of dark materials under the drawing room floor and then Crabbe erupted with a strange sound and he started to change.

They looked at each other and bolted out of the common room. They said something about getting something for his stomach ache but by then I knew. Crabbe's hair had started to turn orange.

I waited a few moments then bolted after them. I followed them until I got to a girl's bathroom on the second floor. It was no longer Crabbe and Goyle that I was looking at, but Potter and the Weasel in Slytherin robes.

Something about seeing Potter in those robes struck me, but I've no explanation as to why. I didn't have long to think on it either. I rushed back to the common room and tried to go back over everything that had been said.

I was mildly amused that Potter thought I had information about the Chamber, more so than Dumbledore perhaps. He probably thought I was the heir of Slytherin. I smiled about that for a while.

Just the idea of Potter placing me as the heir when the whole rest of the school thinks it's him. He's got a closer hit then the other idiots do, but he's still off. I wish I was the heir. Then I'd have full control and I could get Potter back finally… I could get him.

Something does bother me though. I did mention the thing about the drawing room and where Father keeps his dark objects. I was a little worried at what that might do, but I'd simply write to Father and have that all sorted out. He would punish me again, but it would be worth it. He would realize that too, in the end.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_Valentine's Day –Spring term_

It was the most disgusting display today. Without a shadow of a doubt. Lockhart decided to spread the Valentine's cheer about the school and hired little gnome-like things or whatever to go around giving people _singing valentines_. I got about twelve of them, and I'm quite sure that eleven of them were from Pansy alone.

Eventually the little creature got tired of singing to me so I threatened him if he didn't shut it and leave me alone. He happily went on his way to the next unsuspecting victim.

Walking down the hall, however, I saw something a little bit more amusing. Potter was wrestling one of the creatures for his bag. It split and let his things scatter about the hallway while the gnome-thing started singing him the more revolting song I've ever heard. With lines like "he's really divine", I just about gagged myself. I picked up one of Potter's books before he could get to it himself, mind you. I tried to stop myself from smiling at the intense redness that spread across his face.

The book I'd picked up was what looked like his journal. I laughed and asked him about his precious diary but he stole it away and stomped off. I frowned and spat at the little she-Weasel that Potter didn't like her Valentine, just to get the frustration out on someone.

I cursed myself later for not keeping his journal. I wanted to know what's written in it. What does Saint Potter write about in his diary? Unless he's writing his own autobiography to later sell and sign copies of….

I want to know if he writes about me, is really what I care about. I want to know if, perhaps, he has time for me in his writing, because he doesn't seem to have time for me anywhere else. I want to know if I have an important enough effect on him so that he writes about me in his journal.

Not that I really care if I have an effect on him. Not that it matters.

More importantly, though, why should Potter get a Valentine? I'm almost surprised he didn't get a mass-Valentine dump. Surely the whole school has enough love for him to send him one of those. Bloody prat.

He shouldn't be getting Valentine's from anyone. That she-Weasel can't honestly think that she has a chance with the Almighty Harry Potter, can she?

What a fool.

She should already know that he's untouchable….the little git.

I hate him…

VVVVVVVVVVVV

Alright so Granger finally got hit by the damned monster from the Chamber and yet she is not dead. Pity. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about anyone out-doing me in my exams. But I suppose that either way, she's out of the picture for now at least.

The school has _finally_ come to its senses and realized that Potter is NOT the heir of Slytherin. It's about bloody time!! I desperately want to say "I told you so" but somehow, it's just not strong enough.

In any case, with all this, my father managed to get all the school governors to sign a petition to get Dumbledore kicked out of the school. He was put on probation or suspended or something to that effect because they felt that he is not doing enouth to protect the students from this danger. That and the Minister for Magic demanded that Hagrid be sent away because the last time, _he_ was the one who supposedly opened the Chamber. Like I believe that. I don't think that anyone can honestly think that oaf did something so great as open the Chamber of Secrets, let alone be heir of Salazar Slytherin. It's as though the masses are just getting more and more stupid with every passing moment.

Nevertheless, he's been sent to Azkaban until the person is caught. I bet he'll enjoy himself thoroughly. I hear it's quite nice in early spring.

Pfft.

The problem with all of this is that Potter knows that my father is the one who got Dumbledore kicked out and now he's walking around brooding. I can literally _feel_ the hatred RADIATE from him whenever I walk back. It's a rather strange feeling to have that kind of hatred directed at you.

I suppose I didn't help the matter by boasting about Father's success in ejecting Dumbledore from the picture. Potter did not seem to appreciate that and I think I may simply have added fuel to the fires.

I just don't get it though. How can Potter honestly care about everyone, EVERYONE but me? He can care about all the ruddy Hufflepuffs who hated him and thought that he was the heir. He can care about the foolish Creevey kid that followed him around like a dog with a camera. He can care about a random Ravenclaw he's never met, nor talked to before in his life, but he cannot, even for a moment, _pretend_ to care about me.

I'm sure that, if given the option, if he had to chose between saving my life and saving You-Know-Who's life, he'd pick the latter. He'd just let me burn or drown or whatever and save his mortal enemy over me. I'm sure of it.

I should ask him one of these days, just to see what he says.

I mean it's not as though I begged my father to get Dumbledore kicked out JUST to piss Potter off. I had nothing to do with the whole ordeal, contrary to what I've been telling people. Honestly, he should learn to read between the lines there. Potter needs a lesson in social literacy.

VVVVVVVV

_The following written in Invisible Ink_

It's currently 3:27 in the morning and I cannot sleep. I _was_ asleep before. But then I had the most disconcerting dream and jolted awake. Now I cannot sleep because the damn dream is stuck in my mind. So, I've decided to write it down and hopefully, then it will leave me alone and I'll be able to catch at least a few more hours of my precious slumber. You don't look as good as I do with lack of sleep, believe you me.

So I dreamt of the Quidditch game again. I mean for the first time ever. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match. It's the only one that matters, really.

I saw the whole thing play out again. I saw Potter dance around in the air, trying to escape the bludger. I saw him get hit and felt something like a punch to my chest. I saw his arm break from the impact and then I saw him fly towards me again.

But this time, the bludger behind him disappeared and his arm seemed to heal itself.

He was flying directly at me, like he had before, with his arm outstretched to capture the Snitch at my ear. I couldn't look away from his face. I stared into his eyes and he stared into mine. I waited for him to fly right by me but that didn't happen this time.

Instead, he flew right INTO me.

It was like being hit by a cannon or something. It was as though he'd hurled himself off his own broom and right into me. The force of it threw me from my broom as well and we started falling backwards, through miles of air and nothingness.

He was holding onto me so tightly it was almost painful, as though he refused to let me go. Or perhaps I was holding on to him. I don't know, I just remember staring at him as we fell, my face blank and confused. Nothing was said and everything seemed to stand still –we were the only ones moving.

Then I woke up.

Shouldn't read anything into that. It likely doesn't mean anything but at least now that I've written it down I can try to get some rest. Ah well.

VVVVVVVVVVVVV

_Near end of term_

BLOODY HELL. I want to kill him. I want to take him out to the Forbidden Forest and push him up against a tree and just beat him, forget the damn wand just this once.

Potter _ALWAYS_ has to be the hero! ALWAYS. No exceptions, ever, right??

He took the Weasel down into the Chamber of Secrets –which he found and magically OPENED with his precious PARSELTONGUE. Then he goes about saving the foolish little she-Weasel and defeats Salazar Slytherin's precious monster and DESTROYS You-Know-Who AGAIN. I don't know how the hell he managed that, but here we are. He did it.

I want to hit him.

Not only did he do this though. He didn't only play the hero and save the day again so that the world can swoon over him and grovel at his feet, kissing the ground he stands on, but he had to go on a roll and jut destroy a whole bunch of other things while he was at it.

He got Dumbledore to come back and got my father SACKED as School Governor. HE GOT MY FATHER FIRED. There is no way. Malfoys are never _sacked_. NEVER. Not from ANYTHING.

And then, juuuuuuuust to put the icing on the proverbial cake, he somehow hoodwinks my father into giving Dobby (the bloody house-elf) a SOCK that he took from his OWN FOOT and lost us our SERVANT.

Do you know what that means???

That means that _I_ will be forced to do the cooking and cleaning until we find ourselves a suitable replacement, because otherwise we will be the LAUGHING STOCK of the Wizarding world.

This is not fair. He is NOT allowed to get away with everything!! He has NO RIGHT to go and shove his nose into other people's business and WRECK their families! He has NO RIGHT to force manual labour upon me! AND WORSE he has NO RIGHT to take any kind of pride in it!!

I'm hyperventilating. Potter does this to me. It kills me that he's the only little worm on the face of the planet that can get this much of a rise out of me. I am_ controlled_ and reserved and REFORMED. I am always in control of the situation and my own reactions, Potter is NOT ALLOWED to take that away from me!

He will pay dearly for this. I don't care how. I don't care when, but he will pay. I will make sure of it.

All I have to do now is face that damn smirk he's going to have planted on his face for the rest of the term.

And stop myself from jumping him every time I see it, anyway.

At least I get a nice birthday present for all my suffering. Dumbledore cancelled exams so I get to relax in June. I'm turning.

Funny little number, that.

-----IIIIIIII-----

A/N: So that's the end of second year. Don't worry too much about him, thirteen will prove to be a very good number for Draco indeed, but 15 and 16 might not be so pleasant. Hahah So we see here the first appearance of Draco's over-active subconscious that likes to mess with him, I hope you enjoyed it! I will be adding more and more 'extra bits' into the chapters as time goes on, mainly because Draco gets older and becomes slightly less omnipresent in the later books (what with all the other things going on and all) so I can have some fun there!

Thanks for the wonderful reviews and please keep them coming! They make me so happy!


	6. Third Year: Part 1

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 13—part 1**_

_Summer_

Once again, it's been an overly dull summer and the rest of it doesn't seem to promising either. I finished all my summer assignments in the first week of break, why Mother and Father were in the North of England. I don't know what they were doing, but they had already been gone when I arrived back at home at the end of term.

By the time they _had_ returned, however, I'd just started experiencing the symptoms of what the family nurse called 'puberty'. Apparently this is something that happens around age thirteen (depending on the case) and goes on throughout all the teen years until you hit twenty or so. Supposedly a time of growth and maturation that –somehow –the Muggles have managed to name more aptly than any wizard could. Which might explain why I feel this way about the whole ordeal.

It's Hell.

My voice is breaking and jumps in pitch every time I talk, without fail. I can't speak the same way I used to! That causes a huge problem because half of my identity is in my characteristic DRAWL. No one can pull it off like I can, but even I won't be able to pull it off if my voice keeps jumping octaves the way it is.

To make matters worse, my face, my _beautiful_ face, is being tainted with these hideous little red bumps. There was only one tiny one at first, but more and more are popping up and I CANNOT stand for that. I spent so much time, looking in the mirror and desperately trying to understand what disease I had inadvertently caught before going to talk to the Nurse.

Luckily, she gave me an old Malfoy Family Recipe to deal with the more troublesome symptoms of puberty. I take this ghastly potion once a week and my voice evens out and the horrendous bumps on my face disappear. I love magic.

The problem, however, lies in the _other_ symptom that the potion does NOT affect. I don't really want to talk about that, since it's not really proper conversation for…. well anywhere, but all I have to say is that I've been struck with these…**urges** to…._relieve_ myself… and they always come at the _most inopportune _times! Honestly, at dinner, when I'm riding my broomstick, while I'm reading, when Father has guests over… even while I sleep!! There is no escaping it!

It even happens when I try to make myself angry and think of Potter. Damn prat, he's even found a way to aggravate me without my being in his presence.

In any case, I refuse to discuss THAT with the Nurse. There is NO way that will happen.

At the _very least_ this "puberty" thing has resulted in SOME good things. I've grown several inches in the past month or so and the Nurse claims that it will continue on that way until I'm around eighteen. By the end, I may be taller than Father.

That doesn't matter to me though. What matters is that now I'm surely taller than Potter is. I can look down on him properly now and have a whole new range of options open to me for teasing him.

Unless he's grown as well…

I've also apparently changed a bit in appearance. Mother and Father tell me I'm becoming more and more handsome every day. I'd like to believe that but I can't be sure. They are my parents, after all, so they may simply be flattering me.

Then again… they are MY parents…which would likely mean the opposite.

I wonder if Potter has changed… if he's gotten taller…or filled out his frame more…

WHAT.

SCRATCH THAT.

Damn ink.

Ok ok ok, never mind that.

Back to things of real importance.

_The Daily Prophet_ has begun reporting about the miraculous escape of mass murderer Sirius Black. No one has any idea how he's managed to escape Azkaban, because no one has ever done it before. Not with the Dementors there. Those bloody creatures scare the living hell out of me. Though I don't know _anyone_ who isn't frightened of them.

The point is, he's escaped and now on the loose. The Ministry won't admit to why they think he's escaped, or rather what he's going to do now that he's out but Father has ideas.

He explained to me the whole history behind Sirius Black. He said that the rumor is that Black was the Secret Keeper for the Potters and so he's why Potter's parents are dead. The whole world apparently believes that he's the one who lead You-Know-Who to the Potters. Then he ran after a friend of his, or something foolish like that, and killed him along with something like twelve Muggles before they caught him.

I thought it was rather amusing that he'd murdered that many Muggles in one go, but Father said that it's not appropriate for me to go around boasting about that.

He also said that Black is related to us, though distantly. He's Mother's cousin and so, technically, my second cousin. Or third cousin. I've no idea really, but he's related to me.

I asked Father why we don't do something to help him if he is our family and such a powerful wizard and Father slapped me. He said that we cannot afford to be offering charity to criminals and that we have our own reputations to worry about.

He also said something about Black not being who everyone thinks he is, but I don't know what he meant by that.

I suppose, though, that he's broken out to get to Potter. Seems logical, doesn't it? If he was such a great supporter of You-Know-Who, then he'd surely want Potter dead…

I wonder if Potter knows any of this…

VVVVVVVVVV

_September 1_

I took the train back to Hogwarts today. As usual. Spent most of the time in my own little compartment with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy and her friend. Pansy couldn't stop fawning over me and how much I've grown. "_You've shaped out so well, Draco! This tall and strong look really suits you so well!"_ she'd keep saying. Always in different words as though the first time it wasn't worded properly.

I just took the compliments and decided to not snap at her and tell her to shut her mouth. That may not have gone over so well, I don't think. I just waited it out, winking to Crabbe and Goyle every so often, just to make it look good. Father impressed upon me the importance of having a relationship like this one with an adequate pure-blooded girl. He said that appearances are almost always more important that personal preference.

It seemed as though he was trying to hint at something, but I couldn't pick up on what. Father was always the only person I'd never been able to understand clearly. He likes to speak in riddles of sorts, or simply refuses to explain himself fully.

Whatever.

I decided that I needed to get some air and left her and her friend alone in the compartment. We walked along the train until I found what I was looking for. Potter was sitting with his two followers, as per usual.

I opened the door and said something only mildly clever before they were both already on their feet to face me. I smirked at seeing Potter. He _had_ grown but not nearly as much as I had. I felt a little better about the whole "puberty" thing right then. But then I noticed the big sleeping lump of clothes in the corner.

Apparently he's a new professor, according to the all-knowing Potter. I stared at the thing in the corner for a while, trying to figure out what exactly it was. If that _was_ a new professor, than why was he traveling on the train with the students?

I realized it was probably because he couldn't afford to get there any other way, judging by the look of his robes.

But either way, I'm not a fool. I wasn't going to start anything with Potter when there was a potential professor sitting so near. I stared at Scarhead for a moment or two before leaving with Crabbe and Goyle.

It was really a waste of time. Potter didn't even say hello, or ask about my summer. He hardly said a word, even, he just glared at me. For all he knew I was going to call a truce with him and suggest we be friends! Honestly, he assumes things too quickly.

The little git.

Ha, ha, little. He really is still 'little'. I love it.

Anyway, before I'd even gotten back to my compartment, the train stopped on the tracks and the worst possible thing happened. Dementors infiltrated the cars, looking into every compartment. I ran from them into the closest compartment (which happened to be the one that the Weasel-twins were in). They seemed a little surprised at the expression on my face but they could never know what happens to me when Dementors come.

I relive all the worst moments in my life and instead of just feeling the sadness, I feel all the pain as well. Every single time my father…punished me. Every single time.

Then all the other things that he did to me to teach me lessons…

I can't bear to go through those.

The Dementors came into the car for only a moment. One did anyway. It sucked out everything positive from the room and left me with my agonizing memories. I hunched over into myself and tried to clutch my robes as though that might help keep me warm and happy. I felt weak and the pain surged again.

As soon as the Dementor left, I ran from the compartment and back to my own. Pansy started swooning right away. She said she'd been worried about me while I was gone and hoped that I was ok. She checked my forehead and all and said I looked pale… well paler than usual. I brushed it off and changed the subject.

All I could think of was Potter and what he might have done had I still been in HIS compartment when the Dementor came… I couldn't give him that kind of advantage…not to see me so weak and pained.

Never.

When we got to Hogwarts finally, mind you, I overheard from a group of giggling girls that Potter had fainted from the Dementor…. He'd actually FAINTED.

I couldn't believe it. I mean I though my reactions to them were bad, but I'd never _fainted_ before!

I ran up to him to block his way into the castle and asked him if it was true. I laughed and made some snide comments about the whole idea of it but I got cut off by the 'new professor' who came to check up on the situation. I glared at him.

He was even more shabby-looking when he was awake! Scars all over his face, his clothes tattered and his suitcase coming apart at the seams. Father always told me to look down on people like him. If they can't even make the effort to look presentable, then why should I respect them?

Then Potter occurred to me. He was always a mess too.

Not in uniform. His clothes were always relatively clean and pressed, but his hair…

His hair is always a mess of black locks around his eyes and sticking out in strange places. The kind of hair you just want to run your fingers through… to ruffle it and see what happens.

You know, because it's such a mess and so terribly unruly.

Yeah.

In the feast, we found out that the _professor_ that Potter had been with on the train was actually _professor_ R.J. Lupin and was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Figures. It's as though they person they hire gets worse and worse each year. Next they'll have that oaf Hagrid teaching it.

Oh. Spoke too soon.

_He's_ too busy teaching CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES.

Dumbledore is mad. Absolutely insane. Off his rocker. There is no way that a SANE person could hire HAGRID as ANY kind of professor at Hogwarts, LET ALONE Care of Magical Creatures.

That class is going to be bloody pointless. I can't believe it.

Potter seemed to be happy about it though. He looked shocked but overjoyed that his stupid friend was going to take our educations into his massive hands. Right. Great work.

I feel like hitting him upside the head just to see if it does anything. He's clearly not sane either. Not that I ever thought he was, really. He does continuously reject me, remember?

Who would do that if they are mentally stable? I mean… just LOOK at me.

Why doesn't he ever look at me?

VVVVVVVVVV

_The Following Written in Invisible Ink_

It's four o'clock in the morning. I had a dream that jerked me awake and won't let me back to sleep again. I… it was so much worse than the last one. SO MUCH WORSE.

Remember I said that I get those…. _urges_… while I'm sleeping? Well this time, the urge came with a dream and I'm really not alright with the whole thing. I'm going to write it down here, again, so that hopefully I'll be able to get back to sleep and forget about the whole thing. I'm purging it from my mind after this. Yes.

Ok here goes.

I was walking down the car in the train and I came to Potter's compartment, but this time, Potter's _people_ weren't with him. He was alone. No mudblood, no Weasel, no professor R.J. Lupin, no one. I opened the door and stepped in and made a comment to him, but it was different than the one I had said. I don't know what it is I said even. I can't remember the words…

Then Potter turned around and looked at me. He got to his feet and kept on staring. His eyes were so bright and wide, it felt as though they were boring into my soul and tearing me apart. He didn't say anything for a long time, and I just remember feeling as though we were staring at one another in silence for ages… hours… days…who knows.

Then I stepped forwards to him and he smiled at me. But it wasn't a mischievous smirk. It wasn't even sarcastic. It was genuinely a smile…as though he was happy to see me. He took a step towards me as well and wrapped his arms around me. He ran his hands over my shoulders and back, gripping me tightly. I brought my own arms around him too and pulled him against me, still staring into his eyes.

He didn't say a word but his smile faded a bit. I couldn't figure out why but he leaned into me and brushed his lips over my cheek. I felt my heart stop as he lingered near my ear, then turned his head again to kiss my cheek, but I turned my head to him and caught his mouth.

We stood there, holding each other and kissing, as though everything was right. His lips were so soft but I couldn't really feel his body. I couldn't feel anything but the hot wave that passed over me.

And then I snapped out of my sleep, breathing hard. I looked around myself and everyone else was sleeping. The room was still pitch black and I lifted my covers to realize that I had… soiled them, I suppose is the best way to put that.

I did it to… kissing Potter.

I dreamt of kissing Potter and I… I…

What is wrong with me??

-----IIIII-----

A/N: I love his perspective on puberty. Anyway, Draco's problems are only going to get worse! Much much worse hehehe. He's still young, so I figure that just a little kiss would… affect him enough But there will be more. Third year promises to be split into several parts (it seems) because there will be more added pieces, so I hope you all enjoy it and don't mind!!

Love for reviewers! Though still, reviews promise posts


	7. Third Year: Part 2

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 13—part 2**_

_Care of Magical Creatures class_

Writing this entry is going to prove exceedingly difficult because I only have the use of one of my arms. Let me tell you why.

We had our first Care of Magical Creatures class today. I know, that should be explanation enough for the state of my arm, but I'll go on anyway.

We have the class with the Gryffindors, which makes it that much more exciting, of course. So we all trudged out through the grounds down to the oaf's hut. What kills me is that he seemed surprised that none of us had been able to open our books. IT WAS BITING AT ME, of COURSE I refused to open it!

"_Yeh've got ter stroke 'em!"_ he said, as though it was painfully obvious. Good thing it worked, otherwise I might have just hexed him on the stop, no thought to the consequences. And he thought they were funny.

HONESTLY this is NOT a teacher!

Anyway….

He took us to the edge of the Forest, to a padlocked area and then comes back with this warped half-bird half-horse creature he calls a Hippogriff. There were several, all different colours and pelts, but he took this particular one up for the class to see close up. As though we'd ever wanted to come in close contact with such a bizarre and clearly unstable creature. Right that's my dream come true.

I stopped listening for a while and started talking to Crabbe and Goyle instead. I know, I know. I should have been paying attention because I'll get nowhere from disrespecting teachers, no matter how useless they are, but it's not my fault! I'm a very bright student and if my mind isn't challenged enough then it wanders! It's not my fault that Hagrid's pitiful teaching abilities were too mundane to keep the attention of my over-active mind! It's his job to keep me interested!

He cheekily asked for a volunteer to go up get to know the damn thing. Right, like that seemed a good plan. Potter, naturally, volunteered for the heroic task, because that's what he DOES. That's when I started paying attention again. The prospect of Potter possibly getting mauled by a great beast was too much to pass up.

He bowed to the thing and then it bowed back, or something. Why this needed to be done, I've no clue. Perhaps the oaf explained that while I was otherwise engaging my mind. I don't really care.

In any case, Potter walked right up to the beast after that and pet his feathers before Hagrid decided to send Potter for a ride. I was greatly disappointed that Potter hadn't gotten mauled, but perhaps if he got thrown off, fifty feet in the air, that might make up for it.

He got on and the beast jumped into the air. Potter looked scared at first, but then he seemed to get a hang of it and I watched him closely as he soared atop this hideously beautiful beast, the wind rushing through his unruly hair…

I think I was staring with my mouth open because Crabbe asked me if I was alright. I snapped to attention and glared at him. I didn't have an answer. I don't think I'm alright at all…

Anyway, Potter landed and got off the Hippogriff unharmed, much to my dismay. The whole class cheered for him as though he'd just tamed a wild dragon or something. What simple-minded fools they are. So easily impressed.

After that we split into groups to take on the beasts. I got the one that Potter had ridden. I gave him a sidelong glance, wondering if he noticed at all. I don't know what that mattered…

So I mimicked him and bowed to the creature. It bowed back, naturally, and I went up to pet it. The feathers were soft and smooth, but the creature wasn't reacting to me the same way as it had to Potter. It figures…

Another one that loves Potter but has no time for me.

I started to boast loudly about how easy the whole thing was. I mean if Potter can do it, so can anyone, right? He doesn't pull of things that are particularly _difficult_; he just happens to always be the first one there.

I went on for a while about how easy it was and how the great brute of an animal is really not so dangerous after all. That was when it all went wrong.

The creature reared on its hind legs and slashed down at me, catching my arm in its wake. I fell back to the ground and curled on my side, feeling the familiar sting of pain spread through me.

I'm not a coward or a wimp, but some things I cannot stand for long…. Stabbing pain is one of them.

I don't know what happened then because I shut my eyes and clutched my bleeding arm. The Hippogriff was gone when I opened them again and everyone was crowded around. Hagrid lifted me into his massive arms and started taking me away. I may have yelled out something about dying and it having killed me, but I can't be sure.

All I remember clearly was looking at Potter as I was being carried away and feeling something heavy fall through my stomach. He looked mildly shocked, but altogether, the whole ordeal didn't seem to bother him.

But that bothered me.

How could he care so deeply about everyone else and yet feel nothing, NOTHING for me? I was badly hurt and yet NOTHING. It doesn't get so much as an _"is he going to be ok?"_ out of him, but some random first year could stub their toe and he'd rush to their side to help them walk!

My muscles tensed and I started shaking from the frustration. By the time I'd gotten to Madam Pomfrey, my robes were soaked in blood and I'd aggravated the wound somehow. She huffed at me while she buzzed around looking for the adequate ointments to use on me. I didn't care at that point.

Something strange though is that Hagrid wouldn't leave my side until he knew I'd be alright. I suppose he is sort of kind, despite his being an oaf and a lousy teacher…

But I didn't concentrate on that either. I was too busy thinking about Potter and how he was probably happy I'd gotten hurt. He was probably celebrating the whole thing now. I could be dying and he'd be having a grand old time with his friends.

He doesn't care and never will.

The heavy weight dropped through my stomach again and a strong pang hit my heart. I winced and bit my tongue, forcing my muscles to tense again, reopening the wound that the nurse had just closed.

I fought hard against the instinct I had to cry. My father had taught me that tears were the body's show of weakness. Malfoys don't cry. Every time I'd cry while he punished me, he'd start again until I learned to stop.

Madam Pomfrey huffed again, though she seemed a little worried. She told Hagrid to leave and continued to administer ointments and potions that might stop the reactions. I didn't tell her that I knew what was causing the wound to reopen. I just let her do her work and hoped that it wouldn't make a difference in the end.

She said there was some slight nerve damage from the depth of the cut and, because of the wound's tendency to reopen, she said she'd have to put my arm in a sling. I shrugged at her and let her do it.

The other thing I didn't mention to her was that when I was younger I had a form of anaemia. The Nurse back home treated it with potions and said she'd fixed it, but I haven't gotten hurt in many years. We kept her there just in case.

She asked me if I was still in pain and I said yes, without hesitation. I just didn't tell her what kind of pain or why. I know why. I'm never going to tell her though.

She said she'd have to keep me for a few days. I shrugged and told her I didn't mind. I know that I seemed off to her though. My face was blank and my eyes were sullen. I wasn't the usual Draco Malfoy and I know it. I let down my façade for a moment in my pain and frustration.

The only reason I'm writing this right now is because she's gone off to sleep and I'm alone in the hospital wing.

An Owl was sent to Father, of course. As well as the School Governors. I'll be that Potter is really happy about that. I bet he thinks I'm faking this all and I deserved what I got anyway. Probably thinks that I'm just out to get Hagrid sacked, just to annoy him.

What he doesn't realize is that my entire life does _not_ revolved around him…

Not entirely anyway.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

I got to go back to classes today. I made it to Potions about forty-five minutes late. Professor Snape didn't mind, though. He never would. Pansy immediately asked if I was alright. She asked if it hurt. I put on a face and made pained noises before turning and winking at Crabbe and Goyle, just to make sure I'd covered all my bases. The girl needs to think that I'm a wounded hero… the boys need to know that I'm strong and nothing can really get to me.

What neither of them know is that I really am still in pain.

I sat myself down next to Potter and the Weasel. They didn't seem happy about that, but I was. I like sitting so close to Potter… Though it did cause a minor…_urge_ again. I quickly shifted myself and the pain in my arm killed that sensation immediately. Why does that keep _happening???_

I put on a smirk and raised my good hand to Snape. I told him that I would need help with my ingredients and he, without a moment's hesitation, assigned Potter and Weasel to prepare my ingredients for me. I smiled at that.

At least this damn wound was getting something good for me. Potter would have to be my servant… if only for a class.

They both did their work grudgingly while I sat back. Neither seemed to believe that my injury was real but I wasn't going to prove to them otherwise. I owe them nothing. They have no right to expect me not to make the best of this.

Ok, so the wound healed alright. The bandages were just to make sure it stayed that way and the sling was to stop me from moving it too much, but it DID still hurt. It would for a while…

I started stirring my potion when I heard one of the other Gryffindors…. Seamus I think they called him, start talking about Black. He was apparently sighted and Potter and Weasel turned around immediately to discuss. I listened closely to the conversation for as long as I could before Weasel noticed that I was eavesdropping.

I ignored his comment and turned my attention to Potter. I asked him what he was going to do about it. I told him that if I were in his position I wouldn't be sitting around school being a 'good little boy'. I told him I'd be out looking for Black…. Said I would want revenge.

Potter didn't understand what I was talking about, which makes me think that no one really told him anything specific about Black. He clearly knows that Black is after him, but I sparked a strange curiosity in his eyes when I gave him my cryptic message.

He showed interest in me for a moment. Just a moment. It wasn't even me he was interested in. It was the information I had, but it didn't matter. He wanted to talk to me more and find out more. But he didn't.

I smirked to myself. I'm still smirking about that.

Potter might need me. The idea makes me laugh.

VVVVVVVVV

I cannot stand Lupin. I can't. His entire appearance offends me. His robes are shabby and frayed. His classes are a joke. He is far too….KIND. He's not bothered by anything and his demeanor is ultimately cheery. I cannot understand. It's as though little actually affects him and I cannot stand it.

Potter loves him. I know he does. He loves Defense Against the Dark Arts. Maybe he thinks it's logical for him to love it because of who he is and all. I don't know, but I cannot stand it. He's good at it too. I know he is. It's likely his best class…

He and Lupin are perfect for each other. They deserve one another.

Both of them and their stupid class. They're foolish ideas about good and evil. They're happy smiles they reserve for everyone else in the world except me.

Potter and his friendly demeanor. The painfully casual way that he walks around the castle…. the way he talks and sits with his friends just grates on my nerves. I can't stand it.

I can't stand that he can be so comfortable one minute and then just pick out some intense anger from nowhere when I pass him by.

It frustrates me…it hurts.

No, it just makes me hate him. Yes. I hate him. I do…

VVVVVVVVV

_Invisible Ink_

Gods this is not happening. I'll never get a proper night's sleep if this keeps happening. It's just past midnight now and I haven't been able to sleep at all. I started thinking in bed…I was thinking about Potter and how angry I am with him. I was mulling over the way he brushes me aside and how much I hate him and then IT HAPPENED.

AGAIN.

This…. _Urge_. I need to find a better way to explain it without having to say it outright. Whatever. It happened again. I was lying in bed, the hangings drawn and all alone in the dark when it came over me. I can't explain it. Is this kind of thing _usually_ driven by hate??

I tried hard to get a rid of it but it wouldn't go away… so… I….Gods this is taking every fiber of my being. I can't write this, not now. It's not proper… but I have to… to get it out of my system so I don't actually have to _tell_ anyone…

I started… touching it. I had to. I had to get rid of it as fast as possible so I stroked myself softly for a bit. It didn't help much so I did it harder. That didn't help either until the image of Potter flickered in my mind. It didn't take long after that… I did get rid of it but I was rather messy after that.

But what is wrong with me?? Why does Potter do that to me?? Maybe the image of him made it go away faster because I hate him. Yeah…

That's it.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

_Night before Hogsmeade trip_

We get our first trip into Hogsmeade tomorrow. I'm excited about that. It's nice to get out of the castle and see civilization again every once in a while. I'm looking forwards to getting sweets at Honeydukes and some interesting items from Zonko's. I've never been to Hogsmeade before but everyone knows what there is there. Everyone is going… Well.

Everyone except Potter.

I found that out today. He can't go to the town because he hasn't got his permission slip signed. I couldn't help but smile when I'd found out. He has to stay at Hogwarts all alone with a bunch of first and second years.

Poor Saint Potter… doesn't get to go with his friends to Hogsmeade. Must be lonely alone at school. Maybe I'll stay back one time just to keep him company. Ha, ha. I bet he'd love that.

I could have a lot of fun taunting him when he's apart from his precious friends.

Making fun of him of course. Nothing else.

Just good old insults. Because I hate him.

Hate him.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: Ah Draco. You silly, silly Slytherin. You should know better than that by now. Tsk tsk tsk. Ah well. I hope you don't mind I played with his health a bit there. I decided to give him anaemia… well in his childhood. Why? I don't know but it occurred to me as useful. I don't think that that is terribly contradictory to anything in the books (except for the fact that it's never mentioned lol) so yeah. I hope you are all enjoying the slow and agonizing unraveling of his resolve! I have so much more to put him through evil

Reviews are love and my life force!


	8. Third Year: Part 3

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 13—part 3**_

_Halloween/First Trip to Hogsmeade_

I went into Hogsmeade today. I think it was well placed because it happens to be Halloween as well, so I got to buy a load of sweets from Honeydukes. But the whole trip wasn't really as great as it could have been.

I spotted Weasel and the mudblood walking around together but I wasn't even in a proper mood to go and taunt them. We went into Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer, mind you. That was good. I've decided I love the stuff. I don't know why but it made the sinking feelings I've been having in my stomach lately vanish and replaced them with warmth and comfort.

Pansy insisted on coming with me to the Shrieking Shack. She said she was far too frightened to go on her own, but I think it was just a sad excuse to get to be able to latch onto my arm (my good arm thankfully). I groaned inwardly but played the macho man and smirked at Crabbe and Goyle. She buried her face in my chest, claiming that it was too scary.

Honestly, it's just a run-down old house off in the distance. If she was going to lie, she could have claimed she was cold or something instead. It might have made her seem a little cleverer.

Perhaps I'm too demanding of her though… maybe I've just got incredibly high standards… or maybe I'm just comparing her unfairly to Po-…

What the hell am I saying??

We went back into town and I shook her off at Zonko's. She apparently doesn't care much for tricks. I don't mind. I love them. I didn't buy anything though… Wish I had. Just to have something to show for it.

I decided to head back to Hogwarts early. I thought maybe I could get in some quality taunting time with Potter (who'd been alone all day) before dinner. I had to pass by the Dementors again and nearly fainted from the way the pain spread through me, but I decided that I would not sink as low as Potter and I made it through.

Besides, I couldn't keep on teasing him about having fainted if I fainted as well, now could I?

Fainting would simply have been an inconvenience to me and my plans.

Once I'd gotten back to the castle, mind you, Potter was nowhere to be seen. I didn't see him until the Feast, actually. It was rather disappointing. Perhaps he had holed himself up in his room all day, too embarrassed to face the world.

I don't know. I think school is dampening my ability to formulate proper theories.

So we ate. I was glad for the good food. I was starved. I'd taken to this unhealthy habit of not eating much. I don't know why, but that sinking feeling makes me feel as though I've got no appetite.

After dinner we all filtered back to our dormitories. I wasn't in the mood for talking with anyone. I just wanted to get into bed and sleep, but that didn't last long. We were all called back to the Great Hall because –apparently –Sirius Black had made it into the school and destroyed the portrait at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower or something.

Dumbledore decided that it would be safer for all the students in the school to sleep in the Great Hall, under the supervision of the Head Boy and Head Girl –along with different teachers –until the whole matter is cleared up. Right.

Set up ALL the students in ONE PLACE together so that if Black decides he feels like coming back, he won't have any trouble finding anyone at all. Good plan.

Very well thought out.

The old man conjured up tons of purple sleeping bags and we all got set up. I watched Potter from somewhere in the crowd and hurried to the row of bags not to far from him. I wasn't close enough so that he would be suspicious, but I could see him from where I was.

I laid down on my front (in case I was to have another one of _those_ dreams) and watched him sleep. He seemed so calm…I can't understand how.

He just found out that Sirius Black made it into Hogwarts. Black supposedly wants to kill him and he is completely unbothered by this?

Maybe Potter is better at hiding his thoughts than I've previously given him credit for. Or maybe I just can't see his face properly from this angle.

I bit my lip and shifted onto my side so that my bad arm was on top of the sleeping bag.

I better not have another one of those dreams… not now. Not here. Not with Potter so close…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVV

_Quidditch –Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff_

The weather has been terrible. It looks as though the castle grounds have been subject to intense hurricanes non-stop for the past…well for longer than I can even calculate right now. I was supposed to play in a Quidditch match against Gryffindor today, but managed to get off of that because of my arm and all.

You should have seen the look on Potter's face. He looked as though he'd been struck by lightning. Which is ironic since he probably will be sometime in this game.

I found myself a seat in the stands and waited for the inevitable. The whole game was like waiting for a disaster to happen. The players were drenched and frozen. It was hard to tell which player was on which team because of the sleet and the grey of the storm. The rain was like knives as it fell too. I could imagine that Potter must have been like a flying statue out there.

I kept my eyes on him the whole time. He was having a great deal of trouble maneuvering and staying on track in the intense winds. I made some comments back and forth with my friends, laughing and pointing at him, as though this was all great fun and I'm so clever for getting out of playing. If Potter were less noble he might have thought to do the same.

In any case, I watched him closely, secretly wanting him to win, just so I could face him in the air again, but outwardly cheering on Hufflepuff. It didn't matter what I said, mind you. The roar of the storm was too loud to hear anything at all.

Then it happened. The sky grew darker –if it was possible –and the air stood still. Black shadows swirled in around the pitch. The Dementors all looked up and seemed to concentrate their power on Potter. I don't know why I felt that way; I could just as easily feel the pull of their power taking all my happiness, but it _looked_ as though they were aiming for Potter.

I watched, motionless and mouth open, at the scene that unfolded. Potter's body slackened –not the way a Quidditch player's body should ever be during a match –and he started to fall to the side. It all happened as though in slow motion. His legs let go of the broom and he started to fall through the air, streaking through the grey sky in his red and gold jersey.

I felt my heart stop and my breath catch in my chest, though I'm sure that it was just because of the Dementors' effect on me. Dumbledore managed to catch him near the ground with a spell and I couldn't help but stare at him. Everything stopped and the world felt unreal. It felt like a dream and I almost wanted to pinch myself just to make sure that I was indeed awake, but I refrained from doing so.

And then I was back in the common room. I missed the whole trip back but I made it there. The Slytherins were celebrating Gryffindor's defeat and jolted me back to life. They cheered for me. I wondered why, because I hadn't caused the storm and I had not called the Dementors but I accepted it nonetheless.

I let myself get into the celebration and finally removed my bandages for it. I knew I still shouldn't –honestly I'd been told to keep them on –but I had gotten sick of them and threw them aside. There is still a faint scar on my arm, but that's alright.

Potter's not the only one with a scar anymore.

VVVVVVVVVVVVV

I HATE WEASEL. I HATE HIM! I WANT TO CURSE HIM AND SEND HIM BACK TO THAT DUMP THAT HE CAME FROM! I ---……..

…………………

Ok…. I've calmed myself down a bit.

I went around all week telling people I was overjoyed that Potter fell from his broom and lost the match. I made more remarks about his relationship with the Dementors and kind of rubbed it in the Gryffindors' faces that they had lost and may be out of the running for the Quidditch Cup… and to Hufflepuff no less.

It's the way I do things. They should be fully aware of that by now but Weasel just DOESN'T GET IT. He's too damn thick-headed to get it! Bloody hell!

I said something in Potions today and then the little git whipped a CROCODILE HEART at me! It hit me in the FACE! That's _disgusting!!_

Does he know where that thing has BEEN?? And he throws it at my FACE?!

Snape gave him a detention and took fifty points from Gryffindor for it but STILL! He should be punished further!

He gets to go around all day with Potter and have their merry little fun times, being all Gryffindor-like and saving the day whilst I have to trudge through, forcing my way into people's attention and dealing with idiots who throw Potions ingredients at me. He's got nothing to complain about! He doesn't know what it's like to have to put on a show for everyone around him! He doesn't know what it's like for no one to understand him and yet think they know him perfectly! He doesn't know how painful it is to be FULLY IGNORED by the ONLY person whose attentions he's been trying to get for YEARS!

He has NO CLUE and so he has NO RIGHT to complain.

Not that I've been trying to get anyone's attention for years. I'm not that desperate.

Am I?

……

Malfoys are never desperate.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

I found out that my father went to the Ministry to deal with my case. He called for a hearing to put the Hippogriff's actions on trial. I told him that wasn't really necessary but he scolded me for that.

Father said that if we let people get away with such reckless endangerments of our lives and such disrespect for our family than the Malfoys would not be who we are today. He said that things like this need to be done to remind people of our position in society, as well as their own. He said that it would be much more foolish to let the event slip by without punishment than it is to actually put a beast on trial.

I didn't argue with him. Father has been doing this a lot longer than I have, so I assume that he's right and knows what is best. That and even if I did argue, all it would likely get me is a punishment.

I bet Potter is angry. He probably wants to kill me now. Seems like the kind of thing he'd want: save the life of a stupid Hippogriff over Draco Malfoy.

Yeah. That's about right.

Damn Potter…no one every puts a beasts life ahead of mine. No one.

How can he be such an idiot? How can he not see??

Just…. Never mind.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I think Draco is getting a little more angsty there O-O But I guess that's just teenage hormones. It's going to go up and down (like seems natural in the teen years) between happy/mischievous to angry/hurt I think. Anyway, please review! I love feedback and all your wonderful comments! -love-


	9. Third Year: Part 4

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 13—part 4**_

_Quidditch –Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor_

I love Quidditch matches. So full of excitement and drama and disappointment.

Gryffindor was to play Ravenclaw today to try and get back into the running for the Quidditch Cup. Potter and his team have been on edge since their loss against Hufflepuff and with good reason. They lost to _Hufflepuff_. Who wouldn't be on edge?

Anyway, I was preparing myself for a very interesting match at breakfast when suddenly Potter came into the Great Hall with his new broomstick. This wouldn't normally have bothered me except for the fact that people started shouting that it was a FIREBOLT.

I stared at him dumbfounded for a moment or two, while he walked across the hall to his House table with that aggravating little smirk on his face.

It couldn't be true…. I refused to believe it until I SAW it with my own two eyes. So I went over to see.

When I did see, I almost had a heart attack on the spot because the damn thing IS a Firebolt and it's BEAUTIFUL. It's not the kind of thing that should be in POTTER'S possession! He is _not_ allowed to have ANYthing that fantastic! He has NO RIGHT to further make me jealous.

I'm not jealous.

No.

I tried to make up for my moment of dumb silence with a comment as to his abilities with a broom and more sneering about his reaction to the Dementors; but it didn't come out right. It was too quiet and calm. Not the right kind of tone for that. I need to improve my shock reaction. Potter sensed that I guess and came back at me with another comment.

He told me it was a pity that I couldn't attach an extra arm to my broom so that it might catch the snitch for me.

I just about killed him on the spot.

My anger was so strong, though, that it caused me to freeze and glare at him. I couldn't even raise my arms to wrap my fingers tightly around his neck. Finally Crabbe and Goyle pulled me away, unnoticeably. Only now can my mind fully process what he said and just what I was thinking.

HE'S A BLOODY LIAR.

Has he never watched a match between Slytherin and any other house?? Has he EVER paid any attention to my skills on a broom? CLEARLY NOT.

We FLATTENED Hufflepuff –a feat that the Golden Gryffindors couldn't seem to manage, I might add –in our match against them. Slytherin has NEVER lost to any other house while I've been on their team! And the only reason we've ever lost to Gryffindor is because of MINOR TECHNICALITIES!

Potter needs to be shaken out if his dementia. Seriously. Maybe another hundred foot drop would do it. Sounds good to me.

But it still bothers me more than I can say that Potter acts as though he has no clue that I have ever caught a snitch! Does he happily avoid the matches of the other houses? Is he really that self-obsessed? Does he have the kind of superiority complex where anything that doesn't involve him is meaningless? HONESTLY.

I go to all of HIS games.

I was so angry I wanted to go back to the dormitory and skip his whole damn game. But then I had a better plan.

I swallowed my anger and called Flint over to me with my grand master scheme. I still think it was rather genius if it hadn't gone quite so… wrong.

I sat myself on Crabbe's shoulders, because he was the shortest of the other three, and then we all put on excessively long black robes with the hoods up. Then we walked out to the Quidditch match carefully. It was meticulously planned so that we would walk in just when Potter was about to make his capture, or at another equally inopportune time.

So we did. We walked out onto the pitch dressed like Dementors and freaked the hell out of everyone in the stands. I saw Potter briefly in the air, his face only slightly shocked before he cast something with his wand. I didn't notice what it was at first because I was too busy staring at him. The Firebolt was moving so smoothly through the air and god did he look good on it.

……

There is a filter in my brain that has stopped working and allowed my hand to write things that I do not mean.

Just believe it and we can move steadily on.

Anyway, the thing he had cast closed in on us very quickly and I got a very good look at what it was. It was a GIANT silver STAG. And it was running us down.

I screamed and jumped off Crabbe's shoulder to run, while Flint and Goyle both bolted in opposite directions. I don't know what the hell the thing was but I was NOT about to be trampled by a magical beast of ANY sort. I'd had enough of magical beasts for ONE year thank you.

What caused my ultimate downfall, however, was that I ran RIGHT into McGonagal. She was NOT pleased, to say the least. I don't think I've ever heard her voice as shrill as it had been. It was enough to beat out Weasel's mother from his second year howler. She went on and on about how it was a cheap attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker and yadda yadda yadda. Taking points or assigning detentions. I wasn't paying attention to her. My eyes were following Potter down the pitch with his parade of happy fans as he went to the change rooms.

He looked so happy and unperturbed by the whole ordeal. So indifferent to me…

I cursed to myself and we went back to the dormitories. I didn't say anything to anyone but just went to my room and dropped onto my bed. I couldn't get that damn image of Potter on his broom out of my head and so stuffed my face into the pillow, grimacing.

He was probably celebrating now, with all of his friends and admirers.

Well not all I suppose… the whole world can't be with him.

VVVVVVV

_Hogsmeade –third trip_

It was another trip to Hogsmeade today. Another wonderful Potter-less day. I though of perhaps doing some gift shopping there, but then I remembered, I have no gifts to buy. I could always get something for Potter. Something wickedly funny. Like a Zonko's product. Something meant to explode in his face when he opens it. Or turn him into a chinchilla for a day. Or turn him green and silver. That would piss him off, I bet.

Maybe I should…

Anyway, we went down and found nothing particularly interesting. Three Broomsticks was far too packed for my liking and Honeydukes was growing boring. I went into Zonko's to see if perhaps they had something suitable to send Potter but found nothing really appropriate. Honestly, what kind of gift can adequately say "I hate you. Just up and die, already"? None that I know of.

So I came out empty handed.

After quickly deciding there was nothing better to do, I followed Weasel out to the Shrieking Shack to boost my mood a bit and get in some quality bullying time with him. He was such an easy target. It was a pity Potter wouldn't be there to witness it.

So I started animatedly talking to Crabbe and Goyle about how _happy_ I was that Hagrid was facing the trial today and how much of a _fool_ I knew he was going to make of himself. They laughed along with me and I went on for a bit until we got close enough for me to make comments directly at him. Weasel's reaction was lovely and oh-so predictable. Instinctively wanting to jump me. He's such a simple-minded person sometimes.

I snickered to myself quietly but before I could enjoy myself too much I was hit hard in the head with something wet.

Then I realized I was hit with MUD.

MY HAIR and my FACE were covered in MUCK from the GROUND. You'd THINK that by now people would get OFF the damn idea that my face is for target practice with the most disgusting things you can find but NO. ALWAYS THE FACE.

I turned quickly to see who it was with a grimace on my face. But there was no one. I couldn't see a thing. Just trees and empty space. I shivered for a moment, remembering that we were near the Shrieking Shack : the most haunted establishment in Britain. Weasel made a remark about how haunted it was and my eyes widened.

I was not about to deal with ghosts. Before I could say anything though, I was hit again, this time with slime along with the mud. My head jerked from the impact and I felt the disgusting stuff splatter around. I tried to figure out where it was coming from and sent Crabbe and Goyle forth to deal with whatever it was.

I doubted that it was a ghost because they can't actually lift things. I'm not completely daft. The stupid Weasel should know better than that. But I did know that whatever it was, I wasn't going to deal with it myself.

Crabbe tripped over something on his way and then the strangest thing happened. Potter's head appeared, disembodied in midair.

I screamed, more from the disconcerting concept that Potter was decapitated than anything else, and ran. I didn't stop but ran directly to the castle, holding my breath as we passed the Dementors.

It didn't take me long to find Snape and tell him the whole thing. Well not the _whole_ thing, but the important parts. Generally just that I saw Potter's head in midair in Hogsmeade. He looked as me as though I was insane for a moment before nodding to me and assuring me that it would be taken care of.

I'm not sure if I should believe him or just assume that he thinks I've gone completely mad.

Maybe a bit of both, with the things that have been occupying my mind lately.

I shook it off and went to shower to get the disgusting mud and slime out of my hair. I stayed in the showers for over an hour just to make sure I was completely clean. Just the idea of Potter somehow being behind the mud-throwing was enough to make me wash again and again, just to rid myself of the accompanying thoughts.

I cannot be dirty. Not like that.

VVVVVVVVV

Not much happened today… no nothing to report. Oh wait. No. That's not true.

I was walking down the front steps of the castle with Crabbe and Goyle as Potter and his followers approached. I can't say that I wasn't still miffed about the whole mud-slinging thing, even if I don't really know that he threw it at me. I mean wouldn't YOU be?

I stopped him in his tracks to annoy him. Again, this is what I do. He should start to plan his day around these kinds of encounters because they are only going to get more and more frequent so long as he continues to attempt to ignore me.

I joked about how the oaf would probably cry when his precious Beaky got killed and some other little things. I wasn't talking for longer than a few moments, taking precise note of how angry Potter was getting at my words, when this THING came across my face with the force of a whip. I was in shock for a moment or two before I turned and saw what it was.

The MUDBLOOD had SLAPPED me!

She put her FILTHY hand on my FACE and left a MARK! Do you know what that's like?

That's like purposely DEFECATING on SACRED GROUND!

She actually HIT me with her disgusting dirty blooded hands and I couldn't even believe it! And THEN she pulled her WAND on me!

I glared at her in shock for a minute before I turned my attention to Potter instead. He seemed almost as shocked as I was, but not quite so insulted by the idea. His face betrayed a kind of confusion that didn't make his thoughts easy to read at all.

My fingers ached for my wand but I couldn't do it. I just stared at Potter, trying to understand his expression before glaring at the mudblood brat again and turning to leave.

Yes, I know. I let her get away with hitting me and gave her no consequences. Yes I know, Father would punish me for something so stupid but I have no intention of forgetting this.

She will pay… eventually. She will.

For now, however, I can't act on it. Not as long as I don't know what Potter was thinking. The look he gave me was the closest thing I'd ever seen to him caring.

And for now, that's more important.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_Invisible Ink_

It's the Quidditch Final tomorrow… Gryffindor against Slytherin. I'm playing Potter and his precious Firebolt for the Quidditch Cup and this match is bloody important. I cannot afford to lose this one. The anticipation in my stomach has overwhelmed all of me and that is the only explanation I can find to explain why I'm awake right now (at 4 a.m.) when I should be sleeping.

But it happened again. This is getting old I think. Honestly, I should have better control over all this, but it's for naught. My mind and I are not getting along as of late.

The dream was…. different…than the last two have been. I have the urge to go and shower right now to rid myself of the feeling it gives me, but I can't do that…

I was in the change rooms next to the Quidditch pitch. I don't know if I was really there, but I was seeing it anyway. Potter was alone inside. He was wearing his Quidditch uniform and his skin was glistening with sweat, I assume. I supposed he had just finish a game, or even practice. He turned around and cracked his back, stretching his arms and legs to loosen up.

Then he _took off his shirt_.

He pulled off the heavy jersey slowly, as though he knew I was watching, and threw it to the side. His chest was bare and perfect. His muscles were only mildly toned, but they were still obvious. He stood just like that, as though modeling for me or something. Then he started to undo his belt.

I felt my heart race and a hot flush washed over me, causing me to whimper inwardly (at least I hope it was inwardly). I couldn't tear my eyes away from his body as he slowly lowered his pants to stand before me in his boxers and nothing else. His eyes were bright and I could feel them bore into me as though calling to me.

I gasped and snapped out of my sleep. I was sweating and covered in… other fluids…. again…

GOD why does this keep happening?? What the hell is wrong with me?!

I can't get back to sleep now and I've been fighting with my head for the past hour or so, trying to understand what these dreams are supposed to mean. Or at least, if they don't mean anything, then WHY am I having them?!

I bit my lip hard, until I tasted blood and shut my eyes. I wouldn't let myself give in to the confusion. It doesn't matter.

None of it matters, it's just another one of those stupid aspects of puberty.

It's just your mind playing tricks on you. It's just designed to make you go mad before you can reach adulthood. That's all.

Nothing more.

You cannot give in to the insanity.

You are a Malfoy.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: Sooooooo Draco's getting worse! His poor poor mind. The dreams are going to escalate far faster than his real actions to Harry are, mind you. I'm trying to space it out evenly so that it doesn't happen too fast, but fast enough so that I've got time to work with. Thanks for the lovely reviews and please keep them coming!


	10. Third Year: Part 5

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 13—part 5**_

_Quidditch Final –Slytherin vs. Gryffindor_

It was the final today. I didn't sleep most of the night. I was paler than usual when I woke up and couldn't bring myself to eat anything. Flint urged me to eat something and Pansy was pleading with me but I didn't listen. I couldn't eat. Not knowing what was going on in my head… not knowing what I was about to do.

I went out to the pitch and got ready. I took a few moments, while Flint was giving the team his talk, to calm myself down and concentrate on my task. I couldn't let anything get to me. I just had to go out there, fly like hell and take whatever means necessary to catch the snitch first.

When we got out there though, my resolve wavered a bit. I put up my sneer and pretended to be confident but just seeing Potter standing in front of me like that, holding his Firebolt, after what I dreamed…. It was just hard.

The match started. When I got onto my broom it felt like the whole world shifted and nothing was the same anymore. It felt like everything and nothing was weighing on this match, weighing on my shoulders. I wonder if Potter felt it too.

There was this perpetual deafening roar throughout the stadium and I closed my eyes, just for a moment, to regain my centre. When I opened them, I knew what I had to do. I tailed Potter. I followed him closer than his shadow would and didn't let him out of my sights.

He flew so gracefully on that broom. It was like something out of an advertisement. Or maybe a dream…

I shook the idea off and urged my broom forward. I ignored all the yelling and screaming around me. I ignored the commentary and the fights and desperate moves that were made between both teams. It was like some epic battle, the green fighting the red, colours weaving in and out and players being knocked from their positions in the crossfire.

I know, I sound so poetic, don't I?

There is no other way I can describe it though. None. I've thought for a long time about just what this whole game meant to me…what it meant to…everything. And this is the best thing I can come up with. I feel so… subdued.

I followed Potter still, the red and gold of his jersey burning permanent marks into my mind. I swear, I didn't blink.

Then he sped up. He saw the snitch and was going for it. I'm not an idiot. I know my Nimbus Two-Thousand and One is no match for an international standard racing broom. None at all. So I did the only thing that I could to stop him.

I jumped onto his broom and held on for dear life.

Don't get me wrong, Firebolts are good, but not _that_ good. It can't keep up the same pace when double the weight is on it.

Potter felt the slowing of his wand as the snitch moved out of his grasp and looked back at me. I was so close to him. His eyes burned me with his frustration but he couldn't to anything. I smirked at him and I know my eyes must have been glimmering. The way he looked at me… you'd think I was pure evil or something.

But I shrugged it off and let go, falling back onto my broom. And it started again. I tailed him and followed him around, making sure that I knew every move he made. He couldn't scratch his head without my knowing.

Then bludgers zoomed by and we were level with the rest of the game again. It was brutal really, but I paid little mind. I had one thing to do and it did not involve any one of the players.

Potter soared off fast and very suddenly. I snapped to follow him when I realized it wasn't the snitch he was after, he was trying to dispel the wall of Slytherin players to protect one of his own. Stupid noble Gryffindor. While he was turned, I spotted the snitch out of the corner of my eye and smiled darkly.

I flew the fastest I ever have towards the opposite end of the pitch. The wind whipped at me as I cut through it but I didn't pay any attention to anything but the snitch until Potter caught up with me. We were neck and neck for a while, so close together that our knees kept hitting against one another.

The brief touches were enough to send rolling waves of shivers down my back and throughout my limbs. I was so close to him.

I swallowed hard and pressed forward, holding my hand out. The snitch was inches from my grasp when Potter knocked my arm out of the way, hard, and caught it instead. I careened off to the side from the force of his push and everything caught in my chest. Everything. My breath, my thoughts, my heartbeat… everything inside me stopped and crowded inside of my ribcage as though trying to make it explode.

I landed without looking at the pitch. The game was called to an end and Gryffindor was named Quidditch Cup winner. I stood there, breathing hard and trying to breathe again. The stands roared like they were all trying to imitate the Lions and take part in the celebrations. As though in slow motion, I turned my head just enough to see Potter raised high about the crowd. He was yards away from me but his face was shining so bright, his smile was almost infectious.

I had to fight to clench my jaw and turn away, grimacing at myself.

I went into the change rooms with the rest of the team. One of them tried to say something. I think they were trying to tell me it didn't really matter. I ignored them, chucked my broom across the room and shed my clothes, jumping into the showers.

I stayed there for hours… hours into the night when I was sure the Gryffindors were still celebrating.

How could I let anything affect me like that?? I could have WON this game! I could have wiped that smirk off of Potter's scarred face and shown him once and for all that I'm superior…that I'm worth everything he thinks I'm lacking.

But that smile… I'd give anything to…

To wipe that smile off his face.

That's what I meant.

GOD WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

I've spent all my life being in control of EVERYTHING. That's what my father taught me. NOTHING can throw me off. Nothing can affect me on the surface because if someone affects you visibly, then they know they've won. They have power over you. They have something on you that you can never get back.

That's why he taught me to do it to other people before they had a chance to think twice and consider doing it to me. But Potter…

No matter what I do, he just gets under my skin and burrows deep into my head… like I can't escape him… like he'll always be there…

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_June 5_

It's my birthday today. Oh hurrah. I'm fourteen. Bring on the next phase of hell.

Father sent message today that the Hippogriff's appeal was set for the 6th. He said that there's no chance that he'll get off so really, that's the day the beast's been sentenced to death. I think, in some sense, that was my father's sadistic way of giving me a birthday present. To make up for all the bollocks I've had to deal with this year.

Maybe.

I never wanted the beast to get killed. I don't care for that. There's no need in my mind. Killing it won't take the scars off my arm, it won't turn back time, it won't change things between Potter and I and it won't do any good, altogether.

I don't need Buckbeak to die. I don't need Potter to hate me more than he does. I don't need to feel the excessive focus of anger and fury against my soul every time Potter so much as walks by.

But I know Father disagrees. He thinks this is the perfect revenge. He thinks that this is the best way of keeping lower ranked people in line and teaching them to show me proper respect.

I'm glad to be getting back at Potter. I'm glad to knock him back down after his Quidditch win, but I didn't mean for this…

Argh, what has happened to me??

I would never have cared this much before! I don't care! I don't!

The damn beast can die and Potter can watch it happen, for all I care!

He can hate me too.

VVVVVVVVVVV

_End of Term_

I have what Madam Pomfrey called a migraine right now and I definitely know why it's there.

I have this desperate need to punch my fist right through a wall, which frightens me because I know that my fist would be subject to more damage than the wall ever would. I am NOT a physically violent person. THIS is DEFINITELY a result of the STUPID Muggle thing…. _Puberty_.

It HAS to be.

That and Potter.

Both of them. It's as though they've joined forces secretly to make my life a living nightmare! You think I'm paranoid, but I'm not. How do I know this is what he's done?

WELL because Potter's face has been NOTORIOUSLY CLEAR of any of those damned red marks. Honestly, you'd think that he has some kind of agreement with the gods of puberty to make sure that I'M the only one to suffer from it.

Ok, ok….

………

That's not really why I'm angry with him…

I've no idea what happened earlier this month at all. It's always that way. Potter goes off on some kind of brilliant and heroic adventure and I'm stuck here, completely oblivious to it all until there is some kind of announcement in the Great Hall praising him once more for saving the world and proving his valor to all his little fanclubs.

Honestly, I should just expect this by now. It's been the routine for the past three years, there's nothing to indicate that it's going to change now, so I suppose I should resign myself to the idea that Potter is going to remain the renewed hero every year hence forth.

Right, and while I'm at it I might as well just gag myself too.

Anyway, I don't know what he did precisely, but it ended up sending Snape off the deep end completely. Honestly, that man was always a little tipsy if you ask me –not that I minded at all, considering that I never got the short end of his wrath –but Potter just HAD to go and knock him right off his rocker.

He came bursting into the Great Hall one morning and just about hollered to everyone in the room (which was the entire school considering that it was a Tuesday) that Professor Lupin was in fact a werewolf. No warning, no padding or sugar-coating the truth. No preparation. He just outright said it and freaked the hell out of the students present. Well except a few of those thick-headed Gryffindors who seemed to think it was rather amusing.

Idiots.

Anyway, through all of the uproar that caused, Lupin resigned and somehow, Potter was rumoured to be a kind of hero again, even though no one has any clue as to why or what he did. None. They just like to make up new adventures for him to play along in. It's as though he's some kind of fictional character that his fanclubs like to play with.

It almost sickens me.

Why should he have a fanclub and not me?? I mean apart from Pansy. She's not nearly enough to qualify a fanclub either. I mean I've had plenty of girls ogling me in the hallways and a fair few have told me they find me attractive… and no they aren't all from Slytherin. Some Ravenclaws and a few idiot Hufflepuffs actually have enough sense to know that Potter isn't the only attractive person in the school.

Not that Potter is at all attractive.

……

Perhaps I should just stop trying to ignore that… I mean I suppose it's not a total stretch to say that he has a strange kind of beauty… in his own warped little scarred way. It's not a crime for me to admit that, is it?

No… no. It's a good thing. Yes.

At least this way it makes him a more worthy rival, right? If he were as worthless and unattractive as Longbottom or Crabbe or Goyle, perhaps, then it would just be unrealistic that he get so much attention, no matter who he supposedly defeated thirteen years ago.

Ungh, I hate…

Him.

Why is that so hard to write?

Something is getting to be seriously wrong with me. Perhaps I should consult the family Nurse… she's bound by secrecy with spells and magical contracts so it's not as though she could admit anything to anyone…. Except Father.

No… I can't go to her. I can't risk Father finding out about any of my recent… problems. He'd just punish me again to teach me to stop.

And I can't deal with that. Besides…

I don't know if I really want to stop…

------IIIII------

A/N: OMG DRACO WHAT DID YOU ADMIT? Hahahah he's going to keep on pretending but we all know the truth about Draco's feelings. Yes, we do. I'm having fun with this but I'm more happy that this year has ended so now I can move on to fourth year and then finally to fifth and sixth, which is what I'm looking forwards to. Problem is that chapters will likely get a little more sparse after this week because I've got exams. I'll do my best to post with good time, but I hope you won't give up on me! Love the reviews! They keep me writing my craziness down hehehe


	11. Fourth Year: Part 1

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 14—part 1**_

_Summer_

This summer has not been so wonderful as of yet. It's been busy. Father has had many guests over almost every other night. Most of them are from the Ministry and the Minister himself has come to dine with us. Father doesn't allow me to sit in on the 'adult discussions' so I'm always sent off to my quarters just after dinner. It becomes boring to spend so much time alone, in my room or my library, with nothing more to do than think…

I've read all the books I can bear to read. I've done all the homework I've been assigned (by both Father and Hogwarts) and I'm sure I'm at least a year ahead of myself in my studies. That's how bloody bored I've been. I've actually let myself sink to Granger's level of bookworm, I think. Just the thought of being on the same level as her for anything gives me uncomfortable tingles.

In any case, I've done all my work and instead now spend my time on the balcony, staring off at the slowly darkening horizon, thinking of whatever comes to mind. The problem lies in just what comes to mind…

I just can't stop thinking about him. Believe me, I've tried.

I've done everything short of a lobotomy. I've tried potions for dreamless sleep, but they tend to wear off before the night is done so I end up dreaming anyway. I think I need to increase the concentration. Anyway, I've tried to distract myself with Quidditch. I've played and practiced during the days, working myself so hard that I've begun to build muscle too quickly and I developed these strange stretch marks on parts of my arms. Luckily the nurse managed to get rid of those right away.

And then I just played harder. But every time I fly, I feel the cool air rush against my face and the weightlessness of being in the air and then my thoughts naturally drift to him… Of his dark hair blowing wildly in the wind. Of his bright green eyes searching restlessly for the golden snitch, of his flushed cheeks after he's come out of a feint, of how gracefully he rides the Firebolt and of how he smiled that day when he won the Quidditch Cup…

And then I let myself soar straight into the ground.

But that doesn't help get rid of the thoughts either. I just end up in the nurse's quarters again, wordlessly waiting for her to finish scolding me for being so reckless ("Especially after how badly your arm was wounded at that terrible school! You know it will never heal completely! Being reckless by dropping yourself into the ground could easily reopen it!") Blahblahblah.

I don't care. I have more important things to worry about.

Like why I can't stop thinking about Potter.

Damn, I told myself I wouldn't write his name.

Anyway, I've stopped practicing for a while (to assuage the nurse's anger) and took to reading books instead, but that doesn't help for long either, because as soon as I pull my head out of the pages, I start to wonder if Potter knows any of those things I've learned or something stupid like that. I don't know what's happened to my mind. I was so stoic before I went to school…

I thought of maybe consulting the nurse about a possible mental illness that could have been passed down to me but I thought better of it. Father would find out about that soon enough and seek to find out where I thought my dementia was coming from.

Not a good idea. Too many complications.

Maybe I should just call up a house-elf (we got some new ones, thankfully) and order it to play a game with me. That might help. Especially if I order it not to simply let me win. Most house-elves do that automatically so as not to run the risk of outsmarting their Master. It amuses me because that has actually happened to some of Father's cohorts. He couldn't believe himself when they'd told him that they had to fire their elf because he beat them at chess.

Who loses at chess to a house-elf??

Ah… hold on…

……………………………..

Father has just come to tell me that the Minister (who was our guest again tonight) has invited us all to the Quidditch World Cup as his guests! We'll get to sit in the Top Box with him and the Bulgarian Minister as well, and many other highly-placed wizards! I can't wait! Father said that I should use this experience to learn how to act amongst high-class people. Which I take to mean I should pay attention on how to properly manipulate people with more power than you.

Either way, it suits me.

I get to watch the Quidditch World Cup from the Top Box!

Hopefully that will be enough to distract me from Potter… at least for a few days.

VVVVVVVVVVVVV

_Quidditch World Cup Final –Ireland vs. Bulgaria_

BLOODY HELL WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ME?

I don't think it's only puberty that's against me now, I think it's the whole bloody world that has something on me. Everything. No I'm not paranoid.

Alright, alright. From the beginning.

We arrived on the grounds of the Cup early today. Our "campsite" –as the others were calling them –was amongst the usual people. We were next to several of Father's friends –read: the people he manipulates on a daily basis, the ones who treat him like a leader –and our 'tent' was fully furnished and well organized. Honestly it was strange staying in a cramped space like that, but I suppose that's what people who live in a normal house feel like. Father told me that average witches and wizards hardly have that many rooms in their homes.

Anyway, the excitement on the air was what really got to me. Everywhere there were people milling about and the feel of a Quidditch final was so thick in the atmosphere you could practically taste it. I love that feeling. It's my favourite feeling in the world next to…

Well, nevermind.

I sat outside for a while, watching people go by. Flint and Montague came round to say hello. We discussed the possibilities of the match for a bit, but then they went off back to their own campsites. I didn't mind. Flint is a relatively good Quidditch player but he doesn't make for great conversation.

Eventually we prepared ourselves and set off to meet the Minister and to get our seats. I was a great deal happier than I'd been in a while, I'll tell you that, but it didn't last. Why? Well because happiness never lasts for me. You should have known that by now. What with all the events of the past three years, it should be common knowledge that nothing goes as I plan it to.

As soon as we got there, who do I see? Well of COURSE it's Potter. No doubt there. I should have known better. If there is even the tiniest speck of light in my day, he'll come along to block that out and leave me in my maddened misery.

He was sitting right there in the front row, with a bloody shamrock attached to his shirt and the most awkward looking gadget around his neck. He'd gotten taller… a bit. And his skin was a little more tanned. Perhaps from being outside.

AH.

That's not the point!

The point was, he had to come invade my time WITHOUT HIM TO THINK ABOUT and to make matters worse he had to bring along the whole damn Weasley gang! And the mudblood, but I like to pretend she isn't a person when I can. He didn't seem too pleased to find out that we were there either, mind you, which kind of reassures me in thinking that he DIDN'T actually plan to ruin my day.

In any case, I put on my smirk –the special one, the one that's just for him, it's just contemptuous enough to make him glare –and I took my seat next to Father. The Minister introduced us as his guests and then Father asked Mr. Weasley how he could possibly afford the tickets. Nothing good came of that, except for Father to show his pure disdain for the Weasleys. I didn't notice much. I was busy staring at Potter and wondering if he'd ever been to a real Quidditch match before this one.

Then the game began. Well no, that's a lie. The mascots came out first. The Bulgarians brought their Veela, so naturally they had to go first. These almost frighteningly unnatural women filtered out onto the pitch and that's when Potter went crazy. Like something was broken inside of him.

He got this weird, goofy grin and a strange look in his eyes. Then, without warning, he reached a leg over the side of the box before the mudblood had some sense to ask him what the hell he was doing. I would have asked him myself if she hadn't. Can't have the same thoughts as she does.

Anyway, Father explained the whole concept of Veela before the match. He warned me that I should restrain myself in their presence, but I had no need to. I didn't feel much different that they were out there, not counting the strange surge of jealousy that washed over me when Potter tried to jump out of the box. But that was inexplicable though I've got the impression it didn't have anything to do with the Veela.

Potter calmed down after that. He flushed a bit at his foolishness and I smirked. I couldn't understand precisely why he'd reacted the way he had, but the blush was worth it.

The Irish sent out their mascots –Leprechauns –and there was a new uproar in the crowd. All the golden coins falling from the sky made people go mad in a different way. Pity they would disappear in a few hours. Otherwise Weasley would have been rich by the end of the game.

And THEN the game began. The players zoomed out onto the pitch, on their Firebolts and the crowds cheered back and forth for whomever they supported. The loudest uproar, however, by far was for Krum. He flew out and the whole stadium went wild, whether they were supporting Bulgaria or not.

I could feel the excitement around me. I started picturing being in Krum's place. I could see the stadium explode from the screaming fans, calling out my name and waving banners and flags with my name or my face. Then I'd see Potter zooming out to meet me from the other end of the pitch…he'd come at me with that look that he had in his eyes when the Veela came out, the same look he gets when he's about to catch the snitch.

Then I snapped back to reality and realized that I'd missed the first quarter of the game. It was insane. The players moved more quickly in the air than the eye could possibly follow (which explained the omnioculars that Potter was pressing into his eyeballs), forcing Bagman to cut his commentary down to only their names.

Then, as though only a few seconds had passed, Ireland was a hundred and sixty points ahead and the Bulgarians were not doing so well. Krum and Lynch went into dives and Krum came out the better flyer. Lynch went straight into the ground. I grimaced slightly at the image. I know what that feels like, but I had done it willingly and so would slow my speed a bit before impact. Lynch didn't see it coming, I guess.

In the end, Krum caught the snitch (making Lynch's state even worse, he looked as though he'd been hit repeatedly by mountain trolls) ending the game, but losing. Ireland won by ten points and the Irish fans went wild. I was crazed and elated but no one would have known. My father taught me well and I just showed an expression of pleasant surprise. I honestly think that it would have been a smarter move to jump for joy and scream out like Potter and his posse were doing, it seemed more natural for a sporting event of this magnitude. Nevertheless, a Malfoy is only as good as his façade.

We left after that and Potter went out of my sight.

We celebrated with the Minister for a while but when he left Father warned me to go into the forest and stay there until he came for me. He told me not to say a word or speak to anyone, but to stay out of sight. I got dressed and didn't question him. I left with my wand in my pocket and without looking back.

I should have expected what was going to happen but I guess I was blinded by the excitement of the night. I stayed in the forest for a good half-hour, alone and bored as hell, with nothing better to do than think of HIM again, before the screams erupted and people became frantic.

It was dark and frantic. I don't know why but I've become rather sensitive to the emotions on the air. I could feel the panic spread from the core of the danger. I went to the edge of the trees and saw the faint outlines of people floating in the air above a mass of black. I straightened and froze in my position.

Why did he have to do this tonight? What was really in it for him?

I shook myself out of the shock and pressed further into the darkness of the trees. More and more screams were coming from the campgrounds and people started filtering madly through the forest to get to some safer place. As if there was some safer place.

If the Death-Eaters managed to start something at the Quidditch World Cup, what makes these people think they are any safer anywhere else?

I shivered uncontrollably for a few minutes, thinking about what I'd just thought and then shrugged it off and tried to relax myself. Sadly, the only thing I found to work was to allow myself to do the one thing I'd been trying to avoid all summer: think of Potter.

I thought of how he looks when he flies, how his eyes sparkle when he's smiling and how it might feel to run my fingers through his messy hair. It calmed me down for about three moments before I opened my eyes and saw him standing just a few feet away, Weasley and Grander in tow.

Great.

I made some inordinate comment about Weasel's feet and then they went on the defensive immediately. If they hadn't been putting their guard up from the approaching Death-Eaters, why should I make them uneasy?? I just don't understand Potter's logic.

Anyway, I told them that they should get out of there. I said that the mob was after muggles and they seemed to think that this was a terrible insult or oversight on my part. Oh-so-cleverly defending the mudblood as being a witch (which makes her right out of the Death-Eaters' sights, right?), Potter gave me a look. I shook my head, inwardly, and elaborated on my comment.

They can't be all that smart if they didn't realize that to Death-Eaters muggles and mudbloods are practically the same thing. I pointed this out and yet somehow it didn't seem to help the situation. They just got more angry.

I don't know how it got to this, but one of them suggested that my _parents_ were out there with the other hooded people. I tensed at that and stared at Potter. I grit my teeth and frowned, thinking of how best to answer that question. True, my father WAS probably out there. But my mother? I had no idea where she might be. For all I know she might be back at the Manor already. I'm not privy to all the information on my parents' whereabouts. It also frustrated me that Potter would automatically think that I'm nothing better than the son of a Death-Eater. So really, how does a Malfoy answer a question like that?

"Well if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, now would I Potter?"

Or something like that. Yeah, I know. Pitiful retort, right? Malfoys should know better than that. They should DO better than that, but I was caught and honestly, I was getting worried. I had tried to warn them about the Death-Eaters before and they took it as an insult.

Maybe it was in the delivery, but I DID say that they were going to attack the mudblood if they came across her. What more warning do they need?

Finally the mudblood cued in to the whole matter and they went off. I watched them go for a while. I even followed not too far behind, just to make sure that Potter made it far enough away, without getting himself killed.

When I thought it was safe enough, I went back to my original spot and waited for my father. It got boring and colder as the night went on. The darkness of that time became oppressive and I felt lonely and cold. I found myself wishing that I had company like Potter and his friends to stay with.

Then I kicked myself.

I don't need anybody! I'm a Malfoy and that's that! People are just tools to use to do your bidding, nothing more. I have to keep telling myself that.

Somewhere in my frustration, though, a spell was cast and a bright green light erupted from further in the forest. I gasped and looked up at the night sky. There, against the blanket of black, was the distorted green image of the Dark Mark. I'd seen this mark on Father's arm before, but it was never this clear and never this bright.

I also know why the Dark Mark is usually cast. The Death-Eaters used to cast it above the houses or locations of whomever they'd killed. I swallowed hard and fought with myself, hoping that Potter hadn't done something stupid and gotten himself killed.

I had the urge to run in that direction but at that moment Father Apparated and grabbed me to take me back to the Manor. He didn't say a word. He didn't even look at me, but took me back and left me in my quarters.

He left me with nothing but my mind, to think further on the one thing I wanted to avoid. The one thing I couldn't.

VVVVVVVVVV

_September 1 –Start of Term_

The rest of the summer passed quickly and roughly. I don't remember any of it now that I think of it, but I did meet some more of Father's old acquaintances and other such people. I can't remember half of them, but I don't suppose it matters much.

I got onto the Hogwarts' Express with a little more optimism for the year than before. Father told me about the Triwizard Tournament coming to Hogwarts this year. Fudge told him ages ago and he told me that a friend of his is Headmaster of one of the other schools, Durmstrang.

I found a compartment next to Potter's with Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and some others. I talked to them for a while about what I knew and loudly mentioned that Father wanted me to go to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts. He said they have a better position on the Dark Arts… They actually learn them instead of just the defense. Mother didn't agree though. She said she didn't want me going so far away but I think she had some other reservations than just that. I said all this loudly because I could tell that Potter's compartment door was open. I wanted to see how he would react.

……..

Come to think of it, I almost wish I HAD gone to Durmstrang. Then I wouldn't have met Potter and he wouldn't be able to drive me so bloody MAD.

Almost…

I went into their compartment a little later to ask him about the tournament but when I got there, I was pleasantly surprised. I found Weasley's dress robes –which simply looked more like a dress from the 1800s instead of men's clothing –and had a little laugh at his expense. I think I deserved to laugh after the way they had treated me at the World Cup. I DID try to warn them, after all. They could have thanked me.

I forgot the dress robes and went on to ask them if they were going to enter. I figured Potter would because he always has to be the hero. Always. The problem with my comments was that none of them seemed to understand them. They had no bloody clue what I was talking about.

I figured it was just because his father is too low-placed at the Ministry (though his brother is there too). I told him so but then left. I didn't need to face some more of their unfounded anger. It wasn't like I was saying things that weren't true. Worse, it wasn't like I was saying things I haven't already said.

I left them to their own confusion for a while and went back to my own compartment. Pansy almost immediately started fawning over me and, I must say, it becomes boring. I'm not a bloody cat. I don't need to constantly have my arm pet. I don't think she was really trying to 'pet' my arm, but I don't care. My mind is elsewhere.

When we got to the Great Hall for the welcoming feast and the sorting and all, I felt a little better. Against my own intentions, Hogwarts has become a kind of surrogate home for me. I feel comfortable here… well more comfortable than I am at home, alone and left to my own devices anyway.

The feast was ultimately uneventful. We welcomed the new Slytherin students to the table, met the new Defense Agains the Dark Arts Teacher (surprisingly, Mad-Eye Moody who's been off his rocker for years –at least as far as Father says) and Dumbledore finally presented the Triwizard Tournament.

Naturally that got a whole ripple of excitement. Everyone perked up and paid close attention. He explained it in the usual way : three schools, three champions, three tasks, big prizes and grandeur associated with the winning, the same old deal. Some things that he added, however, were that there would be an age restriction and that the champions stand alone. They can be offered no help from their teachers and such, and the tasks are far too dangerous for students under the age of seventeen. I frowned for a moment, because as far as I know there has never been an age restriction put on the tournament before, but then again, people have died before in the competition. I glanced over at Potter and sighed in relief. Despite myself I realized that I preferred he not take part in something this dangerous, no matter how badly he wants to be the hero again…

Stupid git.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: So FINALLY let me upload documents XD for some reason it wouldn't let me for the longest time, I don't know what the problem what but anyway. Warning here is that the fourth book serves as a turning point in my series. Things begin to change from here on out and I will be adding more things that aren't explicitly in the books so I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are love!


	12. Fourth Year: Part 2

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 14—part 2**_

_Fall Term_

Today was our first Care of Magical Creatures class and oh my god, what a mistake it was for me not to drop that class when I had the chance. Thinking back, I have no idea what could possibly have made me keep it. I see no upside to taking this course, nothing in it for me…

Well…

NO.

ANYWAY.

The oaf presented us with these frightening baby monsters that look like the spawns of Hell and have the stingers to prove it. He called them "Blast-Ended Skrewts". What I think they should actually be called is "illegal" but that's just my opinion. I asked them what they are useful for (after he told us that he thinks that the males are the ones with stingers and the females are the ones with suckers on their bellies for sucking blood) and he couldn't answer me.

Always a good sign when the professor can't give you a good reason for studying the subject.

Granger quickly remarked that just because they aren't cute and cuddly doesn't mean they aren't useful. Then she cleverly compared the idea to dragons, saying that their blood is useful for many things but you wouldn't want one as a pet. I grimaced and glared at her for a moment to see if she would figure out exactly what she had told me, but she didn't.

I looked at Potter and he had an uncomfortable look on his face, but I don't think it was for the same reason I wanted it to be.

My name MEANS dragon. It's latin. I thought that she might pick up on that but she didn't. Maybe I'm looking too far into that but it bothers me that there was even the possible insinuation that I'm not worthy (or rather too dangerous) to love.

It's frustrating when people don't understand just how meaningful their words can be.

Stupid Potter. Why can't he be aware of things like this? Why can't he CARE?

In any case, the whole class put me off for the rest of the day. Those Skrewts should not be allowed near people and yet Hagrid wants us to RAISE them. I still cannot figure out how it is he isn't locked away in St. Mungo's or something.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

There was an article in the Daily Prophet about Weasel's father. Most know that Rita Skeeter cannot be trusted in her writing, but it's always fun to mess with a good thing. People read her articles so why not abuse of it? She didn't even get his name right in the article and it was about him.

I thought it was so funny that I had to share it with Weasel and Potter. I had to.

So I did. I read it out to them in the hall and laughed with my friends about the whole ordeal. Weasel did not seem so pleased. Potter had to restrain him, but that's nothing new. Weasel should walk around wearing restraints with all the times he loses his temper.

But, naturally, anger and insults ensued. I hate it when things like this happen because it all goes so quickly that I can't keep track of what it is everyone has said and I become lost in the frustration. Potter said something about me and it just tipped me over the edge. It was me or my father. Either way it was an insult and I snapped. He turned his back and I hexed him.

But I missed.

It grazed the side of his head and then all hell broke loose. A booming voice came from nowhere and then I was transformed into what I'm told was a pure white ferret. I don't really remember because once I was the animal I was simpler. I didn't have the complexities of thought that people do. I just remember one thing : fear.

I could hear the laughing around me and my entire body (which was tiny somehow) tensed and shuddered as I saw Moody get closer. Then the most terrifying thing happened. He lifted me into the air (screaming whatever it was at me) and then _dropped me from ten feet in the air into the cold stone ground_.

He DROPPED ME.

And then he did it again! And AGAIN! I was vaguely aware of the people around me laughing. I was only mildly aware of Potter standing there and smiling with the rest of the people. But more than anything else I was aware of the intense and burning pain that was shooting through my tiny, fragile body.

He bounced me up and down against the stone for what seemed like ages before he dropped me for the last time and transformed me back. I got to my feet as quickly as I could but my face was red and my eyes were watering from the pain. I could feel the ribs in my chest broken. I could feel it as my blood vessels popped and bruises spread quickly over my body. I could feel the throbbing pain that was growing in my head but tried to stay calm.

McGonagall was scolding Moody for his trick but the students seemed pleased. Potter seemed quite satisfied and completely unbothered by the idea that I might just have had my neck broken. That hurt more than the bouncing. Again, I get hurt badly and Potter couldn't care less.

I tried not to think about it as I turned away, muttering something about my father, but Moody caught that and stopped me. He said he was an old friend of my father's and that I should warn him that he was going to be keeping a close eye on me. I grit my teeth harder and fought with myself so as not to respond. I already knew everything my father thought of Moody and I wasn't going to make that common knowledge.

Moody said something about being good friends with Snape too and took me to see him, to deal with my punishment. I couldn't concentrate on the conversation that they were having. The pain in my chest was far too strong. I felt as though with every slight movement the fractures were getting worse. My own heartbeat hurt against the trauma I'd suffered. I shut my eyes and took whatever punishment it was (I don't even remember).

They finally let me to go my room.

When I got there I felt as though I was going to collapse but I didn't let myself. I shut the doors and stripped myself instead, standing before the full-length mirror to see the damage. My chest and stomach had turned strange and blotchy shades of blue and green, which spread unevenly around to my back. My arms were a bit bruised as well, but since my torso had taken most of the impact, the bruises would be easily covered by my clothing. The broken bones, however, weren't going to be so easy to fix.

I gingerly walked over to my trunk and opened a small box that the nurse had given me before I came back. She thought it would be safe to give me a good assortment of potions just in case –likely judging on how I'd allowed myself to get hurt over the summer. I picked up a blue vial and popped off the top. I drained the contents and dropped the empty vial back into the box.

Then I finally let myself lie down to concentrate on the real pain I was feeling…

Why did it always have to end up this way? Why couldn't he just show the slightest sign of caring? He can give his heart out to just about anyone that passes him by on the street with a sob-story to tell but he can't even spare a moment's consideration for me. I get hurt and he laughs… he LAUGHED.

I can't believe he laughed with them!

Only the stupid mudblood wasn't actually laughing, but she's got no sense of humour anyway.

I just…. I can't believe he laughed as though it was all a joke.

Yes a brilliant joke, messing with my life like that. Wonderfully funny because we all know that Draco can't really feel, anyway. He's got no heart, he's got no emotions, he's just a toy we can break and leave forgotten in the trash. That's why Potter was laughing.

He was laughing…

I wouldn't have laughed…

Not like that.

VVVVVVVVVV

I will NOT be the laughing stock of the school for a MOMENT LONGER.

This is the LAST STRAW.

I can take it when the bloody Gryffindors make snide comments about Moody's oh-so-clever little trick the other day, but I CANNOT stand around and simply ALLOW the great giant OAF of a teacher to have a laugh at MY EXPENSE.

He has NO RIGHT to make jokes about that event! Not when I am STILL BRUISED and my bones aren't completely healed! NOT when the deep gashes on my arm from HIS STUPIDITY are still touchy from a YEAR ago!

NO.

I will not allow this. No.

I want to punch something. Someone. Hit him. Yes, hit him and kick him and just make his life as miserable as mine is.

VVVVVVVV

The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students arrived today. Oh what a sight that was. Not the entrances, no, those were designed to be impressive and amazing and to me they were altogether overkill. That's not what I'm talking about.

What I mean was the way the Hogwarts students were reacting to the other schools. That was bloody amazing. I've never seen such a large number of people make such buffoons of themselves in such a short period of time.

The first thing I have to address is the Beauxbatons girls. Or the girl, really. There's only one in particular that seems to be of any interest to the rest of the world. She walked in and every boy's head turned automatically to her. Like they couldn't keep their eyes in their sockets as she passed, or their tongues in their mouths for that matter. Weasel was making a complete fool of himself from the other side of the hall and I could see it a mile away.

I rolled my eyes at him but found that Potter, thankfully, didn't seem too interested. When I followed his gaze, however, I found that I was even less happy. His eyes were on this stupid Ravenclaw girl. Cho Chang, I think her name is. Not that I make a habit of knowing the names of every student in the school, but she's the Ravenclaw seeker.

The question is, what the hell was he staring at her for??

She's not particularly pretty. She's not even particularly smart. She's not a great Quidditch player, I mean I'm much better than she is. Even Potter has to admit to that.

WHAT IS IT?

I wanted to get up, walk across the room and smack him upside the head. I wanted to shake him until some sense returned to him but naturally I didn't. I refrained and bit my tongue. Durmstrang was sitting with us and Krum calm along with them. Father had said something about this being possible, but he didn't say it was for sure. He sat next to me and I took the opportunity to get to know it. It was hard making conversation with him because of his thick accent, but I made due.

Every so often I would glance over at the Gryffindor table, to see if Potter was jealous and seething, but he paid no attention.

Again… no attention.

The Goblet of Fire was also presented to us. Dumbledore warned that he would be using an Age Line to stop under-aged wizards from attempting to compete. I'm assuming that this Age Line is going to be more powerful than it sounds. Otherwise Potter and his friends are sure to get around it and get their names in there.

No…even then. There are likely going to be a lot of older students to choose from. Potter can't be the best of all Hogwarts students, can he?

Well…maybe for some things.

But no. Not this.

VVVVVVVVVV

I'm going to kill him.

They called the Champions today. The Goblet of Fire spat out the names of the students competing in the Triwizard Tournament (which is now a misnomer) so that they games could begin.

Ah yes, today was an exciting day.

Can you taste my sarcasm? I can.

Krum got chosen for Durmstrang.

Delacour (the girl that all the boys were after) was chosen for Beauxbatons.

Diggory (the Hufflepuff seeker) was chosen for Hogwarts.

And Potter was chosen for, what's that? Oh yes, a school entirely his OWN.

Yes, that's right. Potter's name popped out of the Goblet at the last moment, as though he was some champion from a fourth school that wasn't named but only he is a part of. School of great wizarding idiots, I think it is. I can't believe this.

First off, he gets called up to go with the other champions and then when they come out they announce that there are indeed going to be four champions this year, because Mr. Crouch (master of the world, it seems) has decided this is what has to be done.

WONDERFUL.

So not only does Potter get AWAY with constantly breaking rules and doing whatever the hell he wants, but he is practically getting REWARDED for it! Is his drive to be the hero of everything really THAT STRONG? What kind of idiot does he have to be??

He should have been aware, if only from the speech that Dumbledore gave at the start of term, that this is NOT the kind of thing you joke about. This is the TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT. PEOPLE DIE IN THIS THING. Plenty of champions who happened to be the best of their school were bested by the tasks presented and came out DEAD. This is a violent and very dangerous ordeal and NO ONE is going to help him. He won't be able to get away with being lucky this time! He won't be able to have his little friends alongside him to make up for whatever skills he might lack. This isn't just about pure nerve. It's not just about stubbornness and courage. This is about SKILL and POWER. And while Potter may be talented in some things, he certainly could use some help in some areas and he will not be afforded that chance.

He could DIE in this thing. He could get himself ripped to shreds, or burnt alive, or drowned, or ANYTHING ELSE that inevitably leads to not being alive anymore! Then what will his precious friends do? Does he realize what that could potentially do to his fanclubs? Does he know what that could mean for the whole damn world??

Does he know what that would do to me?!?

NO, of course not! Potter has to have it his way and go around saving the day! It's as though he's got some penchant for the incredibly dangerous and stupid moves. Like he doesn't have a little voice in his head that tells him that perhaps what he's about to do isn't such a smart move. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, this time, it'll lead to his untimely END.

Fine. FINE. He can do what he likes and see what happens. FINE.

I won't let myself be bothered by trying to help him anymore. I won't let myself get hurt again.

He has no power over me.

-----IIIII-----

A/N: This chapter was rather hard to write for me (much like the chapter where he gets hurt by Buckbeak, because this has happened to me before. Not the getting turned into a ferret and getting bounced up and down against the stone floor, but I mean being in love with someone that I thought hated me (and whom I pretended to hate) and then getting hurt and realizing that they didn't really care. So that was a little rough but I think it turned out alright.

Anyway, I hope this is flowing as well as I'm hoping, hehe. Reviews are love and happiness and keep me writing!


	13. Fourth Year: Part 3

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 14—part 3**_

I may have let my anger get away with me a bit. But you can't honestly say that in my position you wouldn't be just as mad…

I don't know why I'm saying 'you'… it's not like anyone is going to read this.

Anyway. I saw Potter in Care of Magical Creatures today. Weasel isn't hanging around with him anymore, which confused me at first, but now that I think of it, doesn't bother me so much. I taunted him for a bit before I was (much to my horror) sent off with a Skrewt. I had to walk the damn thing. It was the most frightening experience of my life.

I didn't know when it was going to explode at me and propel me several feet forwards. I ended up face-first in the ground a few times, dealing with the damn thing. Once the thing got close enough to sting me but I hit it with a hex and ran in the opposite direction.

It followed me for a few moments until I stunned it again and then brought it back to the crates. I was not going to touch that thing again. Not ever. I don't care what the oaf says, those things are NOT safe, not for ANYONE.

I passed out some buttons I'd made a little later. It was a clever bit of magic, though it might have been a little bit hurtful. But I don't care, I need some way to vent my anger at him. Without having to hit him square in the face.

The badges said "Support Cedric Diggory: the REAL Hogwarts Champion"…and then if you press on them, the message swirls away and is replaced by "Potter Stinks". Ok, so I'm a little vindictive, hex me.

I didn't realize they would take so quickly. Nearly the whole school was wearing them soon enough. I quite enjoyed that.

In Potions I got to show Potter my handiwork personally. He didn't seem too happy. In fact, he nearly looked murderous. I was mildly pleased that I had finally got some kind of reaction from him, but it didn't last long.

He tried to hex me, but I hexed him at the same time. The spells converged in midair and deflected to hit surrounding people instead. Potter's spell hit Crabbe, or Goyle, or something. I wasn't paying attention to that. Instead, I was watching what my spell was doing. It hit the mudblood and her teeth were growing down past her collar. My eyes glittered venomously.

Snape came out into the hall to find the source of the chaos. I pointed out that Potter had hexed one of my friends, and then Weasel pointed out Granger's little problem. Snape said he couldn't see a difference. I snorted silently and tried to stop myself from laughing.

She ran off crying and Potter and Weasley got punished.

The problem was that when Potter pushed past me to sit on his own in Potions, the look on his face hit me hard. I could see that this was wearing on him hard. His eyes were dark and his anger was only covering something like sadness… he was alone.

Ok… so maybe I did let my anger run away with me and perhaps I did go a little too far.

But he deserves it. He deserves it for doing that to me.

For running the risk of getting himself killed.

VVVVVVVV

_The First Task_

I'm shaking from everything that happened today. It was more exhilarating and more frightening than any Quidditch match I have ever seen.

The Champions faced their first task today and all three schools set themselves up in the stands around the arena. It was rocky and ominous but no one really knew what to expect.

The first sign of danger and surprise came when the 'task' was placed in the arena for the first Champion. The 'task' was to get past a DRAGON.

That's right. Each one of the Champions had to somehow make their way past a great angry mother of a dragon to collect the little golden egg that was sitting amidst her own eggs. None too difficult, right?

No.

I watched as one by one, Diggory, Delacour and Krum came out to face their dragons and get the egg. Each of them managed, but some were closer calls than others. They would get slashed at or burned badly because their distractions weren't working well enough. They would ultimately risk their neck just to pick up the damn golden egg.

Then there was only Potter waiting and the most disconcerting beast was placed in the arena to wait for him. It was a Hungarian Horntail.

Don't get me wrong, I know a lot about dragons because I'd read up on them. They are the creatures I like most because of my name and all. My mother –when I was younger –used to read me tales of great dragons and just before she'd say goodnight she'd whisper "Sweet Dreams my little dragon". It stuck with me. She's never called me that again. She'd never even say it in the daylight.

But Dragons are my thing….along with Potions and Quidditch and taunting people…

But the point here is the HORNTAIL that Potter was about to face on his own. This has got to be one of the most dangerous dragons out there. It's got weapons from BOTH ends and knows full-well how to use them.

Everything caught in my chest as Potter came out into the arena and called out something inaudible with his wand. Then he hid behind some rocks as the dragon blew a stream of fire at him. I don't care how angry I was with him; he was still facing a bloody dragon with nothing but a wand.

Then I heard the faint zooming through the air.

Potter's Firebolt was soaring through the air at him and he jumped on just in time to avoid getting torched.

It was fantastic. He was weaving in and out around the great dangerous beast, avoiding the fire and trying desperately to get it far enough away from the eggs so that he'd have enough time to dive in to get it and get out alive. Not even Krum had thought to fly and –secretly –I was kind of proud of Potter for doing it this way…

But not really. Mostly I was still angry with him.

Bloody idiot. Managed to get the egg faster than everyone else did but could have gotten himself turned into a roasted dish for a she-dragon in the process.

In the end he tied in first place with Krum.

I didn't let myself clap for him, but I wanted to. If only for that one moment I wanted to encourage him.

Too many people around me. Too many eyes glaring down at him, hoping that he'd have gotten burnt to a crisp instead of come out in first place. Too much frustration inside to let myself have one moment of accepting.

Damn Potter. At least he didn't get himself killed in the first five minutes.

That wouldn't have been fun for anyone. Now at least I get to watch him squirm through the rest of the tournament and know that he won't necessarily get himself killed in the process.

Good. I like to see him squirm.

VVVVVVVVVV

_The Following in Invisible Ink_

I should have known that this would happen. There was too much symbolic meaning to Potter "dueling the Dragon" for me to have gotten out of this without another one of those damn dreams. It just figures.

Alright, I'm just going to write this out quickly so that I don't have to think about it anymore.

I was flying through the air without a broom. The air was blowing over my skin and I felt weightless and graceful. Then Potter was flying around me. He was on his Firebolt and weaving circles around me as I flew. I could see a coy little smirk on his face as he drew invisible circles in the air around me. I realized that I was a dragon –a horntail –and I whipped my tail around to catch him. It wasn't a violent movement. He moved out of the way in time and laughed at me for a moment.

Then he whipped out his wand and cast a spell at me. I felt the wind fall from around me and the ground come closer. Suddenly I was standing in the middle of the wilderness, my back to a sheet of rock and looking around. I wasn't bothered by being where I was. I wasn't bothered by being alone. It felt comfortable and free. Like the air was clearer and my head was empty of all those frustrating thoughts that plague my days and nights.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to take it all in. Then there was weight against me and I opened my eyes again. Potter was standing there, holding me against the wall with the same coy smirk he had had in the air. His eyes were shining so brightly I thought I'd get lost in them but then he pressed flush against me and whispered something in my ear.

"You aren't so dangerous for a dragon, Draco." The words were so simple and so quiet but I gasped and he pressed his lips to my neck.

I brought my arms up around him and pulled him close, breathing in the smell of his hair, the way it felt against my skin, even though I couldn't really feel it. He continued kissing my neck for a while and then finally looked up at me. His eyes were drawing me in. I found I couldn't breathe as I looked at him and then he leaned his head in and brushed his lips against my mouth.

I tried to press into him too, to pull him close and not lose the feeling or the taste, but then I woke up. I swallowed hard and blinked, staring around the dark room for a while before I remembered that it had just been a dream and that I was still alone in bed… not a dragon, not with Potter.

Argh, but what bothers me more is that this isn't RIGHT! I can't dream of him like this! I can't keep getting these urges and these feelings and these thoughts! I can't keep letting myself think about things that can never happen! I have to start acting up and doing things with girls! I can't keep up this charade forever, or people will start wondering!

I…. I can't even think about Potter. I won't let myself.

I have to stop having these dreams. I have to stop _liking_ these dreams.

He isn't like that. He's a prat and he hates me.

He hates me.

I think I'll start chanting it to myself.

He hates me. He hates me. He hates me. He shouldn't hate me.

DAMN IT.

I don't want him…

To hate me…

I can hate him.

VVVVVVVVV

They announced that there would be a Yule Ball this Christmas, in keeping with Triwizard tradition. I thought that was rather funny because Tournament tradition also said that there should only be THREE champions, but apparently we're being choosy with what traditions we are following and which we are not.

In any case, it's open to students fourth year and up (mostly because one of the Champions would otherwise be too young to attend) so we all need to find dates and get out our dress robes and prepare for what's supposed to be the most "magical night of the year".

Gag me.

The boys at this school are such nervous wrecks when it comes to girls. Honestly. You see groups of them walking around with eagle-eyes trying to spot a girl they like that might be on their own so that they can move in for the kill.

Potter is the worst of them, I think. The nervousness is written all over his face. It's even in the way he walks. I think perhaps puberty really has hit him. Strange though, he still doesn't get those damn red spots.

The prat.

It's amusing to me that he seemed to be less apprehensive about his first task than he is to ask a girl to the ball. Yes, he'd rather face the dragon again.

YES I GET THE IRONY. NO NEED TO POINT IT OUT.

……..

I'm just a little testy.

Potter's been (very obviously) stalking that stupid Chang girl from Ravenclaw. I know he's planning to ask her to the ball, though I won't pretend I can understand why. I don't see it. She's got nothing I'm interested in. Nothing he should be interested in either.

It frustrates me. I mean, I've already asked Pansy (practically the moment the ball was announced). She didn't think too long about that. I hardly got the question out before she'd said yes. Honestly, I'm almost surprised she didn't ask ME. Good thing she didn't, mind you. I would not have allowed that. No way I'm going to let myself be asked to a ball by a girl.

But Potter…

Well it just bothers me that he knows nothing of this stupid Ravenclaw girl and yet can waste so much of his energy following her around. He could easily follow someone ELSE around who is more worth his time.

Easily. It wouldn't be hard.

In any case, I don't think that he's going to get what he wants out of that. Pansy said something about Diggory having asked her already. Don't know why anyone would spend their efforts on Diggory either, for that matter, but that's a different conversation entirely.

I almost feel bad for him. He's going to get his ickle heart broken by the blind Ravenclaw. Poor Potty…

Almost feel bad. Almost.

-----IIIIII-----

A/N: Draco's a little vindictive about Harry's attention to Cho… things like this aren't directly in the books, but fall well into the escalation of his madness… or obsession, whichever you prefer - And the dragon thing is not going to recur much, it was just suiting with these two chapters…. I'm not going to play too much of his name and all simply because it otherwise doesn't have much impact on the events in the following chapters. REVIEWS ARE LOVE!


	14. Fourth Year: Part 4

Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

_**--Age 14—part 4**_

_The Yule Ball_

The Yule Ball finally came around, along with the Christmas holidays. Almost no one left this year. Big surprise there. Generally they were only students too young to go that didn't stay. I almost wish I'd gone with them.

Much like I had anticipated, it was NOT the most "magical night of my life".

Pansy wouldn't come near me for the whole day –not that I'm really complaining. She said something about my not being allowed to see her until she was fully ready. I don't understand that much, it sounds like the kind of thing that women say before a wedding or something. For my own sanity, I shrugged and stayed away. I don't really care much to spend time with her anyway. I was glad she didn't try to get me involved in her grooming and primping, anyway. I'd heard stories of other boys being abducted by their dates to get prepared "properly".

I spent the lounging in the Slytherin common room, reading. Exhilarating, isn't it?

Honestly there isn't much for me to say about my preparation for the ball.

I got up an hour or so before the ball and went to the boys rooms to shower and change. Thankfully the shower was empty when I got there because I…er…got another one of those _urges_ while I was in there. I need to get something to treat that… really I do. I was just thinking about how heartbroken Potter must be, having to show up at the ball with no date, dressed in his fancy robes only to be the only one alone.

And then it hit me. Well not just then, it started when I imagined what Potter might look like in his dress robes. It honestly frustrates me that just about ANYTHING with him in the picture can cause the damn REACTION in me. I think I'm sick. Yes. That must be it. I think I should consult someone… perhaps I should just go to the library and look for a book that might give me some kind of answer.

Crabbe and Goyle don't usually follow me to the library. I think they're frightened of the books or something. Perhaps the thought of so much knowledge and written work makes them cringe….

What am I saying? They don't THINK.

Anyway, I got into my dress robes and fixed my hair (not that it ever needs fixing, mine is just perfect like that) and went out to meet Pansy. I half expected her to tell me it still wasn't time for me to see her, but thankfully she joined me a few moments later. She looked alright I suppose.

She was wearing an iridescent green dress-like thing. It suited her well and her hair was drawn back into an elegant and inexplicable coif. She looked a right lot better than she usually did, but I cannot see how this could have taken all day.

I mean Potter can look this good in just a few moments.

……… what?

I smiled curtly to her and held out my arm so that I'd at least look a proper gentleman, taking her to the ball. Father had taught me the proper ways to address and walk with a woman years ago. He'd taught me the wonder of a genuine-looking fake smile. It still works well to this day. It even fools him sometimes.

We went into the Entrance hall and waited for the doors to the Great Hall to open. Lines of people came up to us to complement our dress. All sorts of girls were whispering to Pansy things that made her stick her nose up in snobby pride. I get the impression they were jealous of her for being with me because every time this happened, she'd tighten her grasp on my arm as though I might escape and be swept away by another one of her vulture friends.

Thinking back on it now, I should have likely taken that as a sign of things to come, but I was too busy scanning the crowd.

Potter was nowhere to be seen for what felt like ages until –finally –he sauntered grudgingly down the stairs to meet one of the Patil girls. The idea that he actually managed to get a date didn't really hit me then… more it was how he looked in his dress robes that got me.

He looked… older… somehow. More mature and more refined. He reminded me of those men I'd seen with my Father at the Ministry when I was younger. The men that were so successful they needed no introduction and inspired awe to everyone surrounding them. I was mildly disconcerted by this idea and fought hard to suppress another one of those damn urges.

One thing did relax me, mind you. His hair was still a bloody mess.

He filtered through the crowd to meet McGonagall for the 'Champions' Entrance' or something equally as pointlessly symbolic. The rest of us went into the Hall and stood around the edges of the entrance way to wait for the Champions.

As they walked in, I noticed something else that was unexpected. That stupid mudblood was Krum's date! I can't believe he picked her –of all people –to take to the ball with him. That and she was somehow… clean looking. I don't know, but her teeth were fixed (sadly, I had rather hoped that that spell would last) and her hair was slicked back and tied in a knot.

I grimaced. I don't appreciate being unprepared for things like that. It was bad enough that Potter had to look so damn good in his dress robes, I didn't need to ever be under the impression that Granger might in fact be human.

I'm shuddering just at the thought of that.

I turned my attention back to Potter to watch him –hopefully –make a fool of himself dancing with the Parvati girl.

But he didn't really make a fool of himself. He didn't do too poorly in his dancing and, actually, managed to pull off the whole thing with a little bit of grace and dignity.

Bugger.

We sat and we ate and blahblahblah. The world goes on.

After the feast the actual dancing began. I took Pansy out onto the floor to dance. She'd press up close to me and move in what I assume was meant to be a seductive manner but I'd just pull away every time. I don't dance like that with any one and certainly not in public. I'm a Malfoy, not a Weasley.

Speaking of whom, Weasel was sitting for the whole of the dance out on the side, with Potter next to him and looking bored out of his mind. Potter's eyes were set on something and I'm pretty damn sure I know what it was they were set on. It's not what I would have liked him to be staring at but at least it caused him to have a strangely amusing pout for hours on end.

His eyes were angry and dark and he acted as though this was the worst night of his life. I smirked and tried to ignore him. I was going to enjoy myself at the ball and brag about it later, just to make him even more miserable.

It was the perfect plan.

I continued to dance to the Weird Sisters' songs for a while with Pansy. Other girls would rub up against me every so often and she'd give them death glares and pull me to a different area of the floor. I'm not a child. She does not own me.

I got sick of dancing. I left the floor and –much to my dismay –she followed me.

Potter was gone. He'd left the Great Hall with the Weasel and was nowhere to be seen. I cast my eyes around the room briefly before heading outside to the little gardens they had set up for the ball. Pansy followed me there too.

When I got out there, I realized why it was she was so intent on following me. There were couples hidden in every other bush, making strange noises and ultimately snogging each other senseless.

I scowled and tried to get through the winding paths before I found myself stuck at a dead end with no Potter and only Pansy waiting behind me. I turned around and stared at her for a moment or two, trying to decide what would be best to say in a situation like this when she went ahead and DID IT.

She KISSED ME.

She leaned in, wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine without saying a word of warning or even asking me if that's what I wanted! I tensed and shuddered in the feel of it. I did not appreciate the whole ordeal, and frankly, her forward actions make me wonder about the kind of girl she is.

I pushed her off and glared at her. She looked frightened, even in the low light of the fairy decorations.

"Draco… I'm sorry," she whispered to me. It looked as though she was afraid I might hex her. I won't lie. I was considering it.

I told her that neither of us would ever mention what had just happened and that only then could we continue hanging out together. She nodded and I left her there.

I went back to the common room and forgot about trying to find Potter.

I couldn't go after him after that. Not after what Parkinson did. What had gotten into her? Thinking she could go ahead and lead any of our interactions?! If I had wanted to kiss her I would have. Fact is I don't.

I never want to kiss her again.

I never want to think about that again.

I feel… I don't know.

I hate not having any means of expressing myself.

There's a bad taste in my mouth.

That wasn't how I wanted my first kiss. Not at all. Not even with whom.

Not that I've planned who I want to kiss… no…

Ah I need to go shower and get that smell off of me.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

I've not been myself lately. I haven't been taunting people quite as much as I should be and my friends are beginning to notice. So, to make up for it today, I took it out on Potter.

We had a new teacher today in Care of Magical Creatures. About damn time too. Professor Grubbly-Plank, I believe. She's alright I suppose, not that I was paying much attention.

She brought a unicorn to class. First thing she says is that they don't like boys so only the girls get to get close and actually take part in the class. Good teaching skills there, make it so only half the class can actually do something while the rest of us sit around and look pretty.

Well, most of the rest of 'us' don't naturally look pretty, so I guess that was just me.

Anyway, it gave me a chance to talk to Potter. He got all worried, see, when his beloved oaf of a friend didn't show up to class. But lucky Scarhead, always has me to hand him the information he's looking for. He doesn't appreciate my presence nearly as much as he should. He'd never find ANYTHING out if it weren't for me.

I told him that the oaf is probably too scared to show his face after the article Rita Skeeter published about him. He's half-_giant_! Giants are violent, mindless and dangerous and he's TEACHING us! No wonder he presented Hippogriffs to us on the first day and then brought the monstrous Skrewt-things along for us to raise. Sadistic bastard.

Potter didn't take too well to all of that but I'm glad. If I'm to be miserable inside then the least I can do is share my pain. He'll just have to deal with being as miserable as I am.

It's only fair.

VVVVVVVV

_The Second Task_

Potter had another brush with death today. But how is that a surprise anymore?

Everyone filed out towards the lake and into some specially placed temporary stands so that we could watch the Champions face impending doom once more. I got myself a seat with the usual gang of Slytherins and made sure that I had a good view of the water. There as nothing there, mind you. I don't really know what they are going to be doing but it better be good.

Potter came out to the edge of the lake with the rest of the Champions and waited for the signal. Then he shoved something into his mouth and jumped into the lake.

And that was it. They all just jumped into the lake and disappeared!

Dumbledore explained the ordeal of this task while the Champions were under there, apparently searching for whomever it was that was taken from them. An hour, he said they would have, and no more.

In the meantime, we sat and watched the calm rippling waters at the surface of the lake, unable to know what was going on underneath. I sat back and huffed a bit. This task wasn't particularly exciting to watch, given that we couldn't actually SEE anything.

We talked and chatted for a while, waiting for one of the Champions to show their face at the surface. Finally, one of them did, but it wasn't a good sign.

The Delacour girl, Champion for Beauxbatons, came up first. She'd nearly drown after being attacked by Hinkypunks I think. Some sea-creature anyway and she had not accomplished the task. She was forced to forfeit and take fourth place.

I swallowed hard, thinking about the whole thing. She'd been forced out of the lake after being attacked, which meant that she had only just gotten away. What if _someone_ was down there and stuck? Someone…

I shook my head and ran my tongue over my teeth, looking annoyed. I rolled my eyes and said something about how the task was taking forever and the people around me all nodded their head in agreement. They started to ask me things like what I would do if I were stuck down there. Or else telling me I should have been made champion in Potter's stead. Or perhaps they meant in Diggory's place. I don't know I didn't ask.

Then, after what felt like days, Diggory's head popped to the surface of the lake along with a very confused looking Chang. I laughed a bit at his choice of person and mused over what Potter likely thought of that. I bet he wasn't too happy.

If he was still alive, anyway. Diggory was one minute over an hour. Who knows where Potter was.

The fact that he was not coming up was rather bothersome to me…

A few minutes later, some warped creature broke through the surface and tossed a limp looking Granger out of the water with him. Krum was clearly no good at transfiguration. He'd only managed to turn himself half-way into a shark.

But the fact that his "important person" turned out to be the mudblood was almost too much for me. I just about cursed him right then and there. He cannot be that blind. The girls in Bulgaria cannot be that hideous that Granger became appealing to him!

Ahh, more shudders. I just can't think of it.

The Champions were given towels and such, being congratulated, but Potter was still not up. He was still down there somewhere, way over the time limit, and possibly dead.

I clenched my jaw and waited. I'm not going to deny that I felt a little nervous. Only because if Potter died, I'd have no one worthwhile to bother.

Then finally, almost another hour later, a little blonde girl and Weasley popped to the top of the lake, closely followed by Potter. He looked a mess. There were marks over his face and arms from what seemed like a Hinkypunk attack, and he was coughing up water as though he'd tried to inhale the lake.

I sighed audibly and when people gave me quizzical looks I made some comment about how inconsiderate Potter had been, taking so long and robbing us of a day off. There were grunts of agreement as I turned back to see his shivering form get into the platform.

I was staring daggers at him. Now that I knew he was alive and relatively well, I realized something. His 'person' was the WEASEL??

That's who is most important to him?! I can't believe it! What the hell is Weasel worth?? Nothing! He rejected Potter at the beginning of the competition because he was jealous of him and yet somehow he's still the most important person in Potter's life?!

It was almost funny. I started to laugh but it was a cold and unforgiving laugh. It sounded like the kind of thing my Father did. It was mocking and harsh and I'm pretty sure that I disconcerted a few of the people sitting around me. Pansy tentatively chuckled along with me and then everyone nodded and laughed too. They had no idea what they were laughing at but I took the opportunity to enlighten them.

I pointed out that Weasel was Potty's important person. I suggested that since Diggory picked Chang, and Krum picked Granger, that perhaps Weasel and Potter have a different kind of 'friendship' than previously assumed. Then everyone broke out into even broader laughter and agreed with me. I was almost thankful to Pansy for that…

They made jokes all the way back to the common room, even though Potter was awarded his points for being so noble and stupid. He was in first place with Diggory now but the group around me was still jeering at the possibility that he and Weasel are _involved_.

Then they started talking about what each of them would have chosen as their "thing" or "person". I joked that Crabbe and Goyle would have to pick food, because that's all they ever think about. They laughed along with me and someone asked me who I would pick. I froze inwardly and pretended to think. They laughed and joked about how I don't need anyone and it would be my mirror or my hair products and other equally as foolish comments. The truth was that I knew exactly who would have been waiting at the bottom of the lake for me, had I been the Champion…

And just the fact that I didn't even have to think about it makes me worry…

I can't be sane, not if it doesn't bother me that much anymore. I must be losing my mind to think that it's alright for me to accept that he is that important to me.

I'm not accepting it.

Just because it's there, doesn't mean I have to see it.

I've never minded pretending before.

-------IIIII-------

A/N: Ahh I don't know if I like this chapter as much, but the fourth year is almost done. I think it will only be one more chapter after this… perhaps two shorter ones if it's too long otherwise. After that I move into fifth year and that's where it gets more fun for me anyway hahaha, I hope you liked it! The thing with Pansy I feel needed to happen. I think it actually improved their relationship, and created a kind of unspoken understanding between them. If you disagree, well I'm sorry then lol. I hope you guys don't think I'm totally mad XD


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